


Facade

by Lady_GothiKa



Series: Victor Zsasz x Reader [1]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Completed, Crack, F/M, Harry Potter Jokes ~ Enough for it to be tagged #youreadumblewhore, Heavy Angst, Humor, It's as weird as it sounds, Lots of bad cringe worthy humor, Reader is Falcone's love child, Seeking strange advise from strangers, Sexual Humor, Texting, The 'reader' is a socially awkward dork. But aren't we all, Victor is your typical broody baldy boy scout, Wrong number
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-05-30 06:19:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 58,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15090830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_GothiKa/pseuds/Lady_GothiKa
Summary: You have 1 unread message- The reader begins a strange relationship with an unknown anonymous through text messages.





	1. 1 unread message

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
It was in the early hours of the morning when you first discovered your phone buzzing next to your bed. The incessant hum drew you from the warmth of your blankets. An unread message labeled as ‘Private’ lit on the front screen, gradually regaining your site, you click and decipher the anonymous text message.

[Private]  
Hey boss, where do you want me to hide the body?  
1: 34 AM

  
   
You squint your eyes with a mischievous little sneer, wondering if you’re still asleep after you blink three times and it’s still there, you can’t help but chuckle and play along.

 

[ - ]  
off the docks will do, be discrete.  
1: 36 AM

  
   
While you reflect, you suspect who this nameless person is. Are they legitimate or just someone fooling around? Whoever they are, you don’t recognize anyone under a private number who had contact with you - especially no one who would text at a peculiar time in the morning, especially on a weekday.  
 

 

[Private]  
It’s done. Do you want anything else done while I am out and about?  
2: 45 AM  
 

 

  
Shit, you had fallen asleep with your phone plastered to your palm, was this anonymous person still replying? You sighed with a yawn, selecting the message and opening it, only to be marginally more weirded out by this stranger.

 

[ - ]  
hmmmdph.. sleep preferably  
2: 47 AM  
 

  
[Private]  
Okie dokie. Sleep tight and don’t let the bedbugs bite. ;)  
2: 48 AM

 

You drop back asleep cringing.

 

 

When you awoke that morning last night almost seemed like a dream, a strange scattered vision you could have virtually dismissed altogether. You couldn’t quite place precisely what transpired, or how it started, but insignificant little amounts of detail rung through your mind like a video hit on replay yet skipped every few minutes.

  
You found yourself captivated questioning exactly whoever that individual was precisely. Was it just some punk ass kid? Or was it something far shadier, like an actual criminal?

Whom ever they are, they had your attention entirely over your morning cereal.  
And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t just a little amused.

 

Yet, it wasn’t till that afternoon until you received another.

[Private]  
This isn’t O.C?  
1: 10 PM

  
   
Chewing your cheek you chuckled gently, whoever this person was, they didn’t catch on quick, or perhaps you’re just too compelling.

   
[ - ]  
Nope. no O.C here.  
1: 11 PM

  
   
Who was O.C? After running through every name you know that begins with those initials, you still remain perplexed.  
 

 

[Private]  
Huh.  
Would it be prying of me to ask if you dispose of corpses regularly?  
1: 20 PM

  
   
You laugh again after tapping your phone, perhaps they do have a grasp of wit after all - well, unless they are being honest, although you remain playful with your unknown anonymous. Maybe you could participate along a bit further.  
 

[ - ]  
Only when I can get my hands on enough concentrated hydrofluoric acid.  
I like to avoid stains in hard to reach places.  
1: 23 PM  
 

  
[Private]  
Ah.  
Call me intrigued. How does one get their hands on enough hydrofluoric acid  
to dissolve a body in this city?  
\- asking for a friend.  
1: 25 PM

 

  
   
You choke on your drink as you clasp your mouth, dropping the book you were trying to read to your lap. So whoever they were, they lived in the city? The plot was thickening.  
 

 

[ - ]  
It’s a secret. ;)  
1:31 PM

  
When they don’t reply instantly you bite your lip and wonder what they are up too.

[ - ]  
What’s wrong O.C mad?  
2: 20 PM  
 

Their long pause grew tiresome fast, making you almost disregard your phone as you walk upstairs and get prepared for tonight. Dinner at a fancy Italian restaurant was on your agenda, thanks to your new ‘Papa’ you never wanted. Because, six months ago at your mother’s funeral, you met a strange old man who claimed to be of ‘relation’.

Yup, you were Carmine Falcone’s bouncing baby bastard, not that he used that term.

Whether you truly were or weren’t did pass your mind from time to time, but in the end, you were satisfied enough to know that beyond twenty years of neglect was going to take a lot more than gifts and fancy dinners to get into your good graces, little alone for you to accept him as ‘Dad’.

But to your surprise, he was gradually warming up to you, and he wasn’t as half bad as you expected for an infamous mobster. Though, when he tried to get you to leave your bar job, he was beginning to draw the line of what’s not okay.

You were always invariably aware that it was dangerous, although serving inside a mercenary club was the most interesting job you had ever held. The people you met were always impressive, distinct and never the same old drunks with the same old stories.

The money wasn’t the problem, you made enough on tips to pay your rent happily. If you had to guess, it most likely the fact that you were serving some of his old associates without even knowing.

So, in other words, he was ‘concerned’ for your well being.  
Not that he seemed to care for the last twenty or so years.  
Making a deep sigh, you pull out a black dress, knee length, off the shoulders and reasonably respectable, accompanying some matching velvet heels.

Dressing up like this made you feel uncomfortable to the say the least, yet you went along with it because it made him happy.  
And keeping him happy, meant he stopped prying into your personal life.  
When your father sees you that night, he smiles warmly, drawing out your chair from the table. “Hello, father.” You address him, while he pulls you in tight at the waist.

His arms hold you close for what seems like a rather long time, making you wonder if he is savoring the moment.

Slowly he stood back, kissing you gently on the blush of your cheek, allowing you take a whiff of his aftershave, it was very extravagant.  
“You are absolutely stunning my dear, the spitting image of your grandmother.” His eyes glisten as he speaks, in thought or reminiscing.  
You smiled back, bewildered on how to reply, so a simple gesture and a “Thank you, father.” Would have to suffice for now. When you finally sit, you can’t help but notice how formal he appears; black and white suit, matte black tie, a red rose pinned to his collar, and shoes so shiny you could see your face in them.

Making you wonder if this was just about investing time together.  
It wasn’t long till your refreshments arrived, a lanky crystal glass was placed in front of you as the waiter splashed in a strong red wine that had a sweet floral aroma.

Falcone takes his glass’ stem between his finger before taking the first sip. He goes on to speak about family again, specially the loss of your older step-brother you never met. The subject changes as his empty glass clunked against the table.

“Sofia, your sister. She isn’t like you - she doesn’t understand -” You can see where this going, she was some rich brat that got everything she ever wanted, and you were brought up by your single mother who had two jobs just to put you through school and keep food on the table, and he feels obliged to bring it up.

“Legacy,” The word snaps you out of your daydream. “Sofia feels Gotham is her’s by right, it worries me. I want you to know that family is more than just a title -” Nodding your head you can’t but wonder who exactly this ‘Sofia’ is.

“That’s why I have now come to conclusion, that now is the right time,” He leans forward taking your hand across the table, forcing a nervous gulp from your throat.

Falcone lifted two fingers signaling a secondary waiter that comes towards you in poised position holding a tray across his palm, the waiter lowers it to him, passing a large ivory envelope straight into his grasp before sliding across the table to you.

The red wax seal is the first thing that catches your eye, with large pressed ‘F’ into it.  
You almost feel your heart hammering against your chest.  
   
“I want you to be an official member of the family - to take the Falcone name.” His hand on yours squeezes.

A gag came to your throat making you cough and clutch your chest as if you had swallowed water down the wrong pipe.

“My dear, are you alright?” He shifts to stand but you stop him in time, grasping his hand back with a nod.

You needed an excuse, a moment to breathe is what you needed.  
“Excuse me father - I should get some water.” He tilts his head with a carefree smile as you excuse yourself from the table. Clenching your purse you enter the bathroom, holding the sink anxiously, tucking a loose strand of hair back into place.

You breathe out and shake your hands.  
Your hand enters your purse, hoping to grab your lipstick to fix your face only to notice your phone with a glowing screen, forcing you to grab it out of curiously.

  
  
 

  
[Private]  
At me? Always.  
5: 03 PM

 

You can’t help but type back. Maybe your new anonymous could be helpful after all.  
 

[ - ]  
Hey, I need some advice.  
 6: 32 PM

 

 


	2. Daddy issues

 

[Private]

Use cold water, _then_ apply vinegar.

6: 33 PM

 

[ **-** ]

Not that kind of problem.

_Yet._

6: 33 PM

 

[Private]

You’re telling me you have a problem

even hydrofluoric acid can’t fix?

_Fascinating._

6: 34 PM

 

[ **-** ]

Afraid so.

6: 34 PM

 

[Private]

Try a woodchipper.

The bigger the better ;)

6: 35 PM

 

[ **-** ]

Srry, size doesn’t count in this situation.

‘Daddy issues’

It would be pretty messed up if it did D:

6: 35 PM

 

[Private]

Last time I checked, woodchippers solved even that.

But what’s the real problem…

Let me guess, _he didn’t buy you the pony?_

6: 35 PM

 

[ **-** ]

_Ha..ha..ha.._

More like I don’t want the fucking pony.

And he’s not exactly the kinda man you want to turn down.

6: 36 PM

 

[Private]

Ah,

In that case I bill by the hour,

And I am far more expensive than a _‘pony.’_

Or

You could say...get this…

‘No.’

6: 36 PM

 

[ **-** ]

How did I _never_ think of that.

-

_Bill by the hour?_

_Interesting,_ let me guess - your a dancer.

How much does lap dance cost, Candy Cane?

6: 37 PM

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“Victor...Victooo _ooor_.” Wendell’s voice nagged at him from across the table, forcing his abrupt sneer to alter direction, while his phone to slipped from his palm.

“What?” He countered, an inkling snarkier than he originally anticipated. Watching the towering lump Wendell collapse into his chair opposite him with a heavy thump, a glass of scotch in one hand and a silver revolver in the other.

 

“Did you hear the news? Falcone is back in town. - story is he’s visiting family.”  

 

What kind of fucking question was that? Of course he had. Falcone had even made a house call as odd as it was. Though the rumor of him visiting family was pure shit if he did, Victor would have been the first to have known.

 

His eyes stared back at Wendell before snatching his own drink. “Clearly.”

“And - are you going to see him?”

 

“No.” He raised a pair of hairless brows, utterly unamused.

 

“Why not?”

 

“Already have.”

 

Wendell sighed from across the counter, “You could have said that first, instead of yanking me around, Zsasz.”

But what would be the entertaining about that? At least people were rather amusing while confused.  

 

“Did he give you a job, or are you still taking shit from old’ birdbrain?”

“A little of both.” Victor returned with a mischievous leer. It wasn’t unusual that Falcone wanted him to keep an eye on some young woman, but it was the way he commanded it. Furthermore, that stare that meant, ‘Don’t cross a line that’s not supposed to be crossed.’ which only made it more compelling to do so.

 

Even more intriguing that he had already studied her from a distance before, she was just some popular barmaid. Which only, in turn, made him even more inquisitive as to why Carmine Falcone would be engaged with such a girl, little alone pay extra to be discrete.

But, discrete wasn’t fun, and he wasn’t a baby sitter…

“So, are you going to cough up the job?” Wendell nagged again.

Victor’s hand reached into his coat, drawing out a photo and slid it across the table. Falcone had only entrusted him a single picture, not even an alias or an address; he was solely to keep an eye on her while she was at work.

“Well, well…” Wendell wolf whistled. “Look who’s the new apple of my eye.”

“Boss’ order is to keep a distance.”

“Off limits, huh? Too bad.” Wendell shrugged his shoulders, sliding the picture back. “She makes a hell of a drink.”

At least that was one upside. The picture shifted back into his coat as picked his phone up again and begin typing away...

 

 

[Private] 

You’re *

7: 01 PM

 

 

 

`

 

 

 

 


	3. Grammar Nazi

 

[ - ]

Who knew Norman Bates was a grammar nazi

And dancer

Does the mustache match the drapes?

10: 05 PM

 

[Private]

Leave - _me_ \- alone.

10: 20 PM

 

[ - ]

Oh hell no.

 _You_ kept me up last night, so now I get to vent my anger out on you.

Plus, i’ll probably have to change my last name anyway.

You’ll never find me ***** _evil laugh_ *****

10: 20 PM

 

[Private]

I am surprised _anyone_ would want to marry you.

10: 21 PM

 

[ - ]

Who says I am lady?

For all you know I could be a creepy bald dude.

_And I am not getting married._

10: 21 PM

 

[Private]

That was harsh.

No wonder you’re not getting married.

-

I wouldn’t go as far as saying _‘Lady.’_

10: 22 PM

 

[ - ]

_Rude._

I don’t need to be psychic to tell *you’re* not married.

10: 24 PM

 

[Private]

_Maybe I am._

10: 24 PM

 

[ - ]

Aw.

There’s hope for creeps after all.

10: 24 PM

 

[Private]

_I keep her in the freezer._

10: 24 PM

 

[ - ]

...

Somehow I should have expected that.

10: 28 PM

 

[Private]

Yes. You are rather slow, aren’t you?

10: 28 PM

 

[ - ]

Oh fuck you.

You can’t talk. You’re the sort of person who eats little girls for breakfast.

_I can tell._

10: 29 PM

 

[Private]

Yes ;P

10: 30 PM

 

[ - ]

Oh.

10: 30 PM

 

[Private]

You’re **_next,_** muffin.

10: 31 PM

 

 

Your phone dropped from your hand - _just slightly repulsed...._

He was just lucky you had work tomorrow.

 

‘He.’

 

_Ugh._


	4. No Reception

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy smokes Batman, another chapter has arrived! 
> 
> Batman: Oh god Robin, close your eyes! 
> 
> RUN.

 

 

 

 

Observing her from a distance was painful to say the least. The music was loud and beating in tune with his headache from another long day of the same shit. But, after-hour babysitting - just had to take the cake.

In fact, if it wasn’t Falcone who asked, he would have just thrown everything in and had someone else do it. Yet, Falcone did ask, and personally. So here he was in this club, past midnight watching a barmaid filling drinks from a distance.

 

She was easy to look at, that was some consideration. Yet annoyingly so he was still to figure out what Falcone had to do with her. He assumed he wasn’t sleeping with her, if Falcone was she most certainly wouldn’t be working in here. Furthermore, she didn’t look like the gold digger sort - that, and hopefully, Falcone had learned his lesson from the last time. The only chicks he should stick to are the ones that _hatch_ from eggs.

 

Avoiding her altogether would be the best idea. Go sit up the far end, get a drink and just remain there till the bar closes, whenever the fuck that was.

 

Even worse, there was no reception in here - why the fuck was there no reception? Who designed this place. He could have sworn last time he was here there was - maybe he was being moody. Victor shrugged it off, he figured he was just in a bad mood, Cobblepot hadn’t exactly been filling his ‘needs’ of late, and he was starting to brew on bottled up wrath.

 

Before he knew it, he was pulling his phone out again, flipping it open and looking at the screen.

 

_Six_ miss calls.

_Four_ voice messages.

_Twelve_ unread text messages.

 

He selected the messages, reading quickly and flicking through the names.

 

Wendell. - The usual shit that wasn't related to anything.

 

[O. Cobblepot.]

Z, I need you at the mansion. 7 AM sharp, Monday morning. Don’t be late.

9:45 PM

**[Delete]**

 

Victor signed again, scrolling through the rest of the messages. There was none from Falcone, that was good. None from his mysterious stranger either. It would seem he scared ‘her’ off.

 

A part of him had queried who she was. She had a smart mouth, that’s for sure - and she was sarcastic, but at least she wasn’t boring.

 

Maybe he would have messaged her again - if he could. Merely out of curiously, though.

 

He knew for sure that she was obviously female, just from the way she writes. She also lived in Gotham, that was for sure, considering her number had the same area code.

 

But who could she be…

 

“Hey, Sugar…  Can I get you something?”

 

The voice stirred a sigh from his lips, speaking before looking up. “Just the will to live - thanks.”

 

“So, I am presuming the rumors are true about you then -”

 

“What…” She was there, standing three inches away on the other side of the bar. Talking, her mouth moving, eyelashes fluttering - why - shoo - go away. “ - are you talking about.”

 

“Well, for starters -”

 

Now he had got her talking.

 

When a woman started her sentence with ‘for starters -’ It was never going to be good... or posthaste.

 

Why can’t she just go away?

 

“Hold the thought.” He interrupted her. Pointing his finger across the bar. “See that girl - yes, that one - I want her to serve me.”

 

That made her huff and cross her arms, with a stare that was stricken from any sort of amusement. “The rumors are true then, Victor.” He felt a lector coming on.

 

“Well that girl over there doesn’t want to attend you, none of them do - ya know why? Cause you come in, and start asking for the most outlandish things - and it’s driving us all mad.”

 

“And…?” He raised a careless brow.

 

“This isn’t a diner.”

 

“I am not seeing your point, princess.” He urged back at her.

 

Her head cocks to the side, a rag in hand, polishing a glass. “Well then, go easy on me cowgirl, it’s my first time.”

 

What the hell did Falcone want with is girl.

 

He knows he shouldn’t be talking to her. But she had started it, not him.

 

“Milkshake - vanilla - _cherry._ ” Each word had her closing her eyes just a little more until she threw the rag down on the bench and made a facial expression he’d only seen on other assassins.

 

This was going to be interesting, to say the least.

 

She seems to vanish for a moment behind the bar, when she reappears he’s checking his phone again, almost as he if he expects something that never comes.

 

“Why - is there no reception here?” Victor looks up, watching her plug in a blender.

 

She turns her head. “Beats me. I blame aliens.” She shrugs, opening the lid of some ice cream.

 

_“What.”_

 

“You know -” She pauses, giving him a stare. “Little bald men.”  

 

He considered that to be an insult. He probably deserved it too, but that didn’t mean he was going to back down. “I ain’t _little,_ princess -” He raises a hairless brow. “I can assure you of that.” Winking suggestively.

 

Her face doesn’t move from her bored expression, her eyes just drift up and down as if she’s sizing him up. “Well, someone’s awfully confident.”

 

His next response is inaudible. Her hand pushes the blender as he speaks.

 

She did it on purpose - _he can tell._

 

And now she looks smug.

 

_Really smug._

 

“What was that sugar, I didn’t hear you.” She smiles her rosy painted lips, pouring the mixture into a tall crystal glass. “Do you want it Irish?”

 

“I am working.” Victor huffed. “So yes.”

 

She obliged, mixing away. Shaking a can of whip cream and placing a red cherry on top with a red paper straw.

 

It’s pushed towards him.

 

And to his surprise - it does look good.

 

He pinches the straw and takes the first sip. It’s not too strong - not too sweet…

 

He holds the cup as she leans forward.

 

“Was it as good for you as it was for me, sugar?” She whispers almost seductively.

 

_For god's sake._

 

Victor coughs with stunned reaction, letting go of the straw - he goes to speak, but she cuts him off.

 

“Oh my - I just love a man with a gag reflex.” She winks.

 

For once he doesn’t know how to react.

 

_There are no words._

 

He just _closes_ his eyes.

 

And breaths out _slowly._

 

‘Falcone asked you to do this - Falcone - _Falcone…”_ He repeats in his head, over and over again.

 

This was going to be a **long** night.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was 3 AM by the time you got home. As soon as the door opened, you kicked your shoes off across the kitchen, you’ll pick them up the morning. Each step to your bedroom was taken like a sluggish zombie, you felt tired, but also strangely awake.

 

You collapsed down onto your bed, still in your work clothes. The clip in the back of your hair, forgotten, hurt on impact, making you roll over and take it out with a huff.

 

It was a long night.

 

_But fuck he was cute._

 

You reached into your pocket, grabbing out your phone.

 

No messages.

No miss calls.

 

The usual for this time of night...except…

 

Oh, fuck it.

 

You commence typing away.

 

_How do you hit on creepy guys?_ |

 

No…

 

You backspace the words with a giggle.

 

[ **-** ]

How was your day?

3: 07 AM

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

`

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.
> 
> And yes, I have no self-control when it comes to making unpremeditated horrible jokes.
> 
> Enjoy. 
> 
>  
> 
> But, I am pretty sure I should have named this story, 'Mr. Z and The Mysterious Cockblockula' 
> 
> *Sighs*


	5. Truth or dare

 

 

 

 

[Private]

You’re up late.

Ok. I suppose.

You? 

3: 08 AM

 

 

 

[ - ] 

Quick reply.

I _almost_ feel loved.

It was alright.

_Murder anyone today?_

3: 08 AM

 

 

 

[Private]

No.

But, the day is young.

I remain hopeful. 

3: 09 AM

 

 

[ - ] 

So optimistic!!

What are you doing?

3: 10 AM

  


[Private]

Driving.

3: 10 AM

 

 

 

[ - ]

D:

Criminal!

10 points if you hit an old lady.

20 if she’s wearing a pink cat sweater. 

3: 10 AM

 

[Private]

How much for an orphan?

Just past Wayne Manor.

3: 12 AM

 

[ - ] 

You’re in Gotham?

Are you stalking me?

 

50 points.

3: 13 AM

 

[Private]

Negative.

No stalking tonight, just going home, muffin.

3: 15 AM

  


[ - ] 

Shit!

You live up there? Fuck.

I need to start dancing like you.

3: 15 AM

 

[Private] 

I pride myself in my flexibility.

3: 15 AM

 

 

[ - ]

Well.

 _I_ can touch my toes.

3: 16 AM

 

 

 

[Private]

Are you an old lady in a pink sweater?

I want my 20 points.

3: 16 AM

 

[ - ]

No pink sweater tonight.

Just pink bunny flannelette pajamas.

3: 17 AM

 

 

 

[Private]

Hot. 

3: 27 AM

 

[ - ]

Yes, they are rather _warm._

Plus they have a hood with ears.

3: 27 AM

 

 

[Private]

Please - please tell me you’re not 16.

3: 29 AM

 

[ - ]

Like, like yea. Lolz

No,

I can enjoy pink bunnies at any age.

Plus.

I may or _may_ not have matching slippers.

3: 29 AM

 

 

 

[Private]

Bunny slippers and ‘Lolz’?

What are you having a slumber party.

 

Truth or _dare?_

3: 30 AM

 

 

 

[ - ]

Oh fun!

**Truth.**

3: 30 AM

 

[Private]

Favourite alcoholic drink?

3: 32 AM

 

[ - ]

Oh.

I see what you’re doing.

Well played sir.

 

Yes, I am over 21.

3: 33 AM

 

 

[Private]

**Dare.**

3: 33 AM

 

[ - ]

Now you’re quiet, huh?

Game on.

 

Send me a picture.

3: 34 AM

 

 

[Private]

[1 Image Attached]

3: 35 AM

 

[ - ]

Nice gun.

Gotta say though, It’s kinda large.

Are you over compensating for something?

 

Wait.

Forget I asked.

 3: 35 AM

 

[Private]

[1 Image Attached]

3: 45 AM

 

 

 

`

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry Brucey...


	6. Riddles

The message stayed unopened and unchecked for the last two days. It was curious considering you never were a coward before, but something about _‘this’_ was odd. He could be anyone, absolutely anyone.

The idea was a tad nerve-wracking, just the tension alone about it was making you pull your hair out. However, today was a new day, and it was time for you to put on your big girl panties and not screw everything up. You were going to meet your new sister today, thanks to dear old dad.

 _‘Family bonds are important.’_ His voice still echoed against your skull. You didn’t even know if she was your younger sister or your older sister, what she looked like, or even if she looked like you. It was creepy. You had no intention of wanting a new sibling, you liked your old life better, the one that made sense and the one you grew up in.

Yet, you didn’t get a say, because everything time you were pushed to saying no, papa Falcone would give you those eyes of glass that screamed. ‘I am not going to be around for long.’ How could anyone say no to that? You weren’t that horrible, despite all your inner pep talk monologue repeating. _‘I am a badass bitch.’_

To be honest, it wasn’t even the meeting of your new sister that was truly getting on your nerves, you didn’t care about her in the slightest - it’s how it looked that was sending your heart rate through the roof and beyond. The new daughter is here to meet daddy's little princess, just when he is starting to talk about life after death. You knew what it looked like, it looked fucking terrible and for another reason, you didn’t want anything to do with it. But he insisted, so you went along to keep HIM happy. But would a spoilt little princess see that?

You breathed out, trying not to think about it. She might be better than the subconscious image you have waved, from what people have hinted at, you had to have hope. Walking upstairs, you had no idea what you were going to wear to such an occasion. Falcone hadn’t specified exactly what the day in-coursed. Anything could be happening - anything. Was it lunch at home? Out somewhere fancy? Fuck, this was Falcone, you might as well ready your ball gown and some glass slippers at hand, just in case. Hopefully, Zsasz would find it, you knew he used to work for him back in the day. Which only made you wonder about him even more. Well, more accurately you just wanted to go to work for your next shift to see if he would return.

You were pretty sure you had scared him off - if that can even happen. The stories and rumors about him weren’t exactly bright, that, and he apparently craved tally marks of everyone he murdered into his own skin. Which was extremely unorthodox, but didn’t surprisingly enough didn’t even make you squeamish at all.  In all honesty, you didn’t really care that he was an assassin, being an assassin in Gotham was the most honest job there was - that and some people just needed to assassinated. Unlike your mysterious anonymous who could well and truly be anyone, which was now making you question every person you knew. You didn’t care that he was an utter creep, he was amusing. It’s just that you could be messaging someone you knew, without even knowing this entire time.

The thoughts shift from your mind as you open your wardrobe, parting coat hangers as you ruffle with a groan. You probably should wear a dress, something at the knee, respectable and of a soft pastel color, but today, in this mood, you said screw it. You opened a draw grabbing the first pair of jeans, black, skinny and rips in the knees. Fuck it. You pulled them on with a heave, next your favorite shirt. It was comfortable and that was good enough for you. The wardrobe doors slam close, wander to the bathroom, doing your hair and face the way it’s usually kept it for going out.

With all this extraneous stress put on your shoulders, your life had just hit. ‘Fuck everything.’ If your new family didn’t like you because you weren’t all _‘La Di Da,’_ they can take your middle finger and shove it up their ass.

 

~

 

“What is that you do for a living? father said you worked in the city.” Sofia tipped her teacup to her lips after the sentence, her pretty pink polished nails that matched her dress tapped the cup. You were happy when you first saw her, yes, she did look like daddy's little princess, but on the bright side you looked nothing like her, only tiny similarities here and there, or maybe it was that bitchy attitude you knew she was hiding behind those fake smiles and thick synthetic eyelashes.

You nodded your head, fiddling with your fingers in your lap. “The city?” of course he would leave it at that. “Actually, I am a mixologist.” She perked a brow when you spoke, something was scheming, plotting and twisting through that little mind of hers, the question was what.

Her cup hits the matching saucer as she rests it on the table, giving your father an angelic smile as if she wore a halo around her head. “Then you work in a venue, or restaurant then?”

 

_Oh, sweetheart._

 

“Nope, it’s a place called Purgatory. It’s a bar for mercenaries and people alike.” That was easier than saying it was a safe harbor for people to get a drink while being on the run from the law, and not everyone wanted to drink at the Ice Lounge. Purgatory was less elegant and more blue lights, stronger drinks and far louder music.

 

“Ah.” Her tongue clicks with your conclusion.

 

It takes all your inner strength not to sigh back, to keep a straight face and not blurt out, ‘Well, some of us have to pay bills.’ Somehow you manage and after what seems like a very long awkward silence your father calls you from the table, making you slower your movements, so it’s harder to tell how grateful you are, to be leaving Your Majesty’s grace.

 

You stand, just taking yourself forward and leaving your bag behind under the chair. “Please excuse Sofia, she means no disrespect - this is just a shock to her. She has lived her entire life believing she’s been, my one and only daughter.”

 

Her and you both.

 

“Of course, it’s fine, I understand.” You mutter with a false smile, tagging along at his hip as he walks through his large mansion halls. You didn’t think it would bother you as much as it did, but there was something so cliche about the whole house that irritated you. Maybe it was the overly large stained glass windows, the paintings after paintings of family members that lined the hallways and the black and white checkered tiles. Maybe you should start calling your father, ‘Godfather,’ and everything will feel better.  

Actually, maybe it wouldn’t.

 

“I don’t mean to pry, my dear. Forgive an old man’s folly. Have you considered the offer we spoke of last, I understand if your answer is no.” Falcone smiles dotting girn, you have thought about it, and it’s not necessarily a big deal - it’s just strange, you knew you’d change it one day perhaps, through marriage or if you ever even wanted that, but this - you never expected a strange old man to come into your life and drop the ‘Call me daddy.’ bomb on you.

 

Well, _not in that way._

 

“I have thought about it.” You smile back, “The answer is yes, father.”

 

He smiles in return and nods his head. “Follow me, I have the paperwork ready.”

 

* * *

 

 

Getting out of there was the best part of today, it was odd, filling in the forms, signing a new signature. A man at the door of the car that drove you back home, bowing his head and greeting you by the name of ‘Miss Falcone.’ It was all a little too much to handle all at once. You were glad when you got back home with only one hour left to get ready for your shift, earlier than usual, filling in for a girl with the flu.

At least at work, your mind could escape trivial matters, find comfort in the small things, and let music become one with your woes, seeming into obscurity and nothing but background noise.

Tables where just starting to be dressed when you pulled on your black apron, hugging your figure at the hem of your skirt. You hardly ever arrived this early, it was almost strange seeing the place quiet and still in total order. All but one man sat the bar, pen, and paper in hand scribbling away, his bowler hat to his left and dressed in a flawless emerald suit.

“Hello, Edward.” The towering, lanky brunette was quite the regular at this point in time, though every time he did came in, he was always in the same mumbling flustered state, smelling of The Narrows.  

 

“Greetings.”

 

His head didn’t move from his paper. Back arched with his hand writing furiously, in his immaculate curved calligraphy. “What has neither nails or bones, but has four fingers and a thumb?”

Well, here we go. Your first brain fuck from dear old Ed for the day.

 

“I am guessing you just want the usual then.” You murmur, pulling a polished glass out of the tray, avoiding his riddle altogether. Even eight o’clock itself was still too early for this.

 

“Please answer.” He commanded, looking up at you finally with this piercing brown eyes, pushing his glasses up his nose with his index finger.

“...A glove.” Your eyes narrow, when you say the answer, his widened.

 

“Correct, round two.”

 

_Oh no._

 

“Ed…”

 

“What is the beginning of eternity, the end of time and space, the beginning of every end and the end of every race?” Edward questions.

 

You let out a sigh, closing your eyes for a brief second, shaking the liquor.

 

“The Letter, E.”

 

Ed mumbles for a moment, taking note. “Correct again, would you say these riddles are easy or challenging?”

You weren’t honestly sure, you got them correct, so that was something. “I suppose, somewhere in the middle.” You pour his drink, grabbing an olive out of a jar and placing it to the side of the glass, sliding it towards him.

 

“That’s not an answer.”

 

“Well, it’s what I am giving you, so deal with it.” You roll your eyes, huffing your voice moving away, but he calls out again.

 

“I have billions of eyes, yet I live in darkness. I have millions of ears, yet only four lobes. I have no muscle, yet I rule two hemispheres. What am I?”

 

_Oh, for fuck sake._

 

“I am not answering anymore.” You tell him with a whine.

 

“What’s wrong do you have another headache? that would explain why you look like crap.” He said back, his brown eyes watching your every movement.

 

“Was that insult?” You cock a brow back at him.

 

“No, it was merely an observation.”

 

_Huh._

 

You didn’t really see the difference.

 

“Yes, I have had an extremely rough day.” You tell him honestly while trying to stay productive but he was practically the only one occupying the premises.

 

“I see, don’t bury it in the woods then.”

 

“Not that kind of rough.”

 

“Then it was not _‘rough’._ ” He replied.

 

Though the comment itself raised a question in your mind, it sounded a lot like something mysterious stranger would have suggested. But then again, if Edward was your mysterious stranger, there would have surely been more clues, unless that was a clue itself, you could never tell with Ed. Now that you were thinking it, you couldn’t get it off your mind. Then again, maybe he doesn’t know it’s you he’s messaging, maybe he’s just as oblivious as you.

You should test him.

Well, now you had too, the curiosity was killing you.

 

“Hey, Ed, ah.” You lower your dishcloth to the bar. Edward's eyes turned to you, rimmed in glass that reflected the overhead light from the ceiling. He could be your stranger. He was a guy - _check_. - Dangerous - _Uh, maybe_. Lived in Gotham. - _Check_. Self-confident - _check, check._ He definitely didn’t call you Muffin, and you weren’t exactly sure if he was flexible or not, he definitely was lean and lanky enough to bend over backwards.

 

“Yes? Have you finally solved the riddle?” He said, obvious to your thoughts.

 

“Uh no. I have one for you, instead.”

 

Edward tilts his head like a dog that’s just seen a biscuit. “Well then, ask away!”

 

“Say, my day was...Er. ‘rough’ how would you suggest that I get rid of a body - if I had one.”

 

His glasses slide down his nose, while he dips his head “That's not a riddle. But are we speaking hypothetically, here?”

 

“Maybe - I’d rather not say.” You shrug your shoulders.

 

“Details matter, has it been longer than twelve hours?!”

 

_Oh shit._

 

“Let’s say, ‘hypothetically’-” You curl your fingers. “Yes.”

“Ah.” Edwards, finger, and thumb press to his forehead, rubbing vigorously with in-depth thoughts, muttering under his breath, over and over again, asking and answering his own questions. “Cut it, no - too much bloat, too messy. Throw it off the pier, no, bloat again, it’ll float, unless you add weight… but could she lift it?” He grumbles again. “Bury, maybe - no, put it in a car, set the car alight...yes.” He raises his head. “Yes!”

 

You swallow in your throat. Maybe Edward wasn’t your guy. Then again, you should keep your eye on him anyhow...just in case.

 

If he’s number wasn’t private, and maybe if there was reception in here you could just call him and find out, but you can’t, so you can only do what you physically can.

 

“Mhm, thanks for the advice, I’ll definitely have to do that…” You ramble off. “Mind if I get your number.” You ask.

 

“Excuse me?” An eyebrow raises towards you.

 

And now your stomach is doing flips, you just asked Edward Nygma for his phone number. Fuck, how could you phrase that worse, he probably has a girlfriend and everything, what the hell are you doing.

 

“I mean, for ah...advise. If I need it - later… who knows.”

 

“Ah, I see.” His hands scribbled away on a napkin, a number written in green pen with a large question mark at the top. “Here.” It slides towards you, as you slowly grasp it like it illegal narcotics, stuffing it in your apron.

 

“Thanks, Ed.” You try to smile, but inside you feel like you should be on the other side of the bar tonight.

 

“So are you going to answer the riddle, or are you going to give up?” Edward pestered.

 

He wasn’t going to give up - so, you give in.

 

“What was it again?”

 

“I have billions of eyes, yet I live in darkness. I have millions of ears, yet only four lobes. I have no muscle, yet I rule two hemispheres. What am I?” He repeats without pause.

 

“I know the answer.” Said a musky voice.

 

_You know that voice._

 

_Ah._

 

Sure enough, you were right. You better stop smiling before everyone who can see you get the wrong idea. You couldn’t believe he was back - Back in the same spot and everything, though now right next to Edward.

 

“It’s a Heart.”  Zsasz's head sways. “Hello, Riddles.”

 

It almost as if Edward goes to stand until Zsasz raises his palm with a halt, forcing him to sit again, with a lump stuck in his throat. Edward adjusts his glass’, placing his hat on his head, straighten the black velour brim.

 

“The correct answer is a ‘human’ heart, but close enough,” Edward said blankly. “What a surprise. Are you here because of Oswald, Victor?”

 

“No -” Zsasz rolls his dark eyes, curling his upper lip. “It’s after hours Riddles, until that clock up there hit’s seven, I don’t have to kill ya’ - mhm, Surprise his my favorite element, that and carbon dioxide ” He smiles, then back to you. “Hello, princess.”

 

 

 

 

 

`


	7. Oh, daddy

 

 

 

“Zsasz, what are you doing here?” You were thrilled to see him again, he was utter eye candy, after all, nothing to complain about in that sense, but you were just wondering his reasons; all you needed was for him to start a dispute, one neither you needed or desired.

“Just working, princess. Gotta say you don’t keep the best of the company.” His eyes lock on to Edward, sharp, deep, like an eternal abyss, maybe even one you’d be happy to fall into.  

 

 _“Rude,”_ Edward muttered under his breath.

You had to agree with Ed, on this.

 

“And you’re any better?” You murmur, gawking up and down and Captain Sass and his never-ending black on black garb. “After last time, I am astounded you’re even back, I thought I scared you away for good.” You smirk at the end, hiding your sarcasm before it gets you into all sorts of trouble - again.

“Of course.” His onyx eyes enlargen. “The best of the best as always, furthermore I don’t spook easy, princess.” His gloved hands cloaked in black leather, grip his matte black vest, drawing it straight into line, like he was reeking of pride. I mean, you’d be prideful too if you looked that damn fine. But it wasn’t like you were just going to say it out loud, he was already arrogant and domineering adequately enough.

 

“Ya know Victor, you’re awfully cocky for a man who never grew out of his teenage angst, or is that the main problem?” You raise a brow, trying to get under his pasty pale skin. It was almost gratifying watching him squirm with defeat.

 

His eyes darted to the side, before a large smile grazed his flawless pale cheeks, almost sending a shiver down your spine. “Why are you asking, wanna know where I buy my eyeliner?” He leans in over the bar, “It’s a secret.” He whispers.  

You lean back, folding your arms. “Nah, Mr. Z, I just wanted to were you got your shampoo.”

 

“Oh well, I can tell you that princess, no mystery there. It’s the same place Edward here keeps his balls, or more specifically where he should keep them if he wants to keep his little lady friend alive -” Victor smirks back at Edward, trying to get a rise out of him.

 

“Are you threatening, _Lee?”_

 

He almost leaped off his chair, before Victor made him sit again. “No, no -” He sways his head, sucking on his lip. “With your track record, I don’t have to lift a finger.”

 

“Whoa now, let's all settle down,” You raise your hands, cleaning up blood stains was the last thing you felt like doing right now. “Let’s all just bottle up our rage until we’re blind drunk, at least then we won’t have to remember it the next day - I already have enough insomnia as it is.”

Victor huffs, letting go and placing his hands back on the bench. “You don’t know nothing about insomnia princess. I have to put up with Riddles lover boy, oh how he wails at night; _‘Oh Edward -_ Oh… Oh, Edward.’” Victor makes a face, grabbing Ed’s drink, flicking out the olive and holding it above his shoulder. “Here’s to just hoping he’s watching too many _Twilight_ movies.” Victor swallows the drink, placing the cup down with the clunk of glass, licking his lips with a smack.

 

“That’s not funny.” Ed dips his head. “He killed Isabella, he deserves everything and more.”

 

Victor sighs, rubbing the back of his head. “I hate to be the bringer of bad news, Ed. But you should've known better. Well, that and you should have kept your little leprechaun dick of death to yourself, everything it touches…. _dies.”_

A moment passes in silence, where all three of you just peer at each other, not moving or saying anything. All you can think of is how fun Victor would be at family get-togethers, and your father's and sisters face with Zsasz arm in arm with you. The fantasy is almost too delightful, too think even in your adulthood you could have a father, disapprove of your _boyfriend…_

 

“Princess.” The sound of fingers clicking, awaken you from your daydream. “Drink, strong, sweet, I don’t give a fuck, _just make it snappy._ ”

You walk away, throwing the tea towel over your shoulder, grabbing vodka off the shelf and a glass, before you come back placing a drink in front of him, with your own sass written all over your face.   

 

Victor's eyes follow the glass as it drops to the bench, Edward’s too. “What the hell is this, I asked for a drink, not diabetes.” He shook his head.

“It’s a cotton candy cocktail.” You admired your handy work, all the pink and fluffy pink sugar on top. He didn’t say anything after that, he simply removed his gloves one at a time, before pinching the cotton candy between his pasty fingers. “Open up, Edward.”

 

“What.” Ed’s face remains blank.

 

“Open your fucking mouth.”

 

“No.” Edward scrunches up his nose.

 

“Cut it out you two.” Pulling the tea towel off your shoulder you go to flick him, someone should. Zsasz seems like the kind of guy who needs to be knocked down a peg every so often. The cloth doesn’t even reach him before he grabs it in his free hand, with cat-like reflexes, he didn’t even turn his head as he wrapped it twice around his bare knuckles, pulling you over the bar countertop, like you were nothing but a weightless feather, one heel peeling of your foot as dangle across the counter. His eyes turn towards you before his head does, making your heart beat faster with every second. “Open.”

 

Your barefoot tingles from the cold sharp air. But, you play along, for now, opening your lips as he places the pink candy upon your tongue as it melts away softly against your taste buds. “I am taking you home, princess - now. _Get your shit.”_

 

**~**

 

“I can’t leave Victor!” You try to argue, but his hold over your arm is far too strong, he’s practically dragging you out the door. “My boss. _I am working_ \- I’ll get fired!” It’s true, it’s not even a joke, not like that’s going to matter to a guy like Victor Zsasz.

He looks back, your arm in his hand, so tight it’s going to leave bruises. “If they do, tell them, the next person they’ll see is me.” It’s only cold the way he says it, no humor, no jest, just dark and bitter with a side of poison.

 

You’re outside now, it’s dark, late for sure, but the hour it is far past unaware to you. A black car you are taken too, matte black in the same shade as his suit, tinted windows, the real eerie sort that makes your knees tremble, at least it’s not a white van.

You yell at him as he drops your arm “Victor.”

 

“Get - in.” His voice remained cold and blank. He wasn’t asking whether you wanted too or not, it was simply a demand.

You swallow, placing your hands on the roof across him. “My daddy always told me not to get in cars with strangers.” you feel your nervous saliva slid down your throat.

 

His eyebrows raise as he shakes his head, the lights from the outside the bar shines so brightly against his skin it makes him appear ghostly white. “You have a _new_ daddy now, princess. Get in.”

 

His door opens, then slams, leaving you out in the cold, holding the handle in your hand.

 

_Oh shit._

 

_SHIT._

 

You flick your hands, your knees trembling.

 

“Fuck it.” You groan, opening the door.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

`

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Victor is in a bad mood. SO I upped his sass. 
> 
> .SORRY. Victor is a big bully. Ed is awesome. END OF STORY.
> 
> On a lighter note. Imagine calling Victor daddy in front of Falcone by accident - YIKES XD


	8. Where's Waldo?

 

 

“Victor, we passed my street like ten minutes ago.” You contemplated out of the window, watching all the colorful city lights fly by, it could almost be beautiful if you weren’t somewhat freaking out right now. Victor didn’t reply, his eyes were dark and directed on the road.

“Victor…”

“Zsasz.”

You chew your lip.

_“...Daddy.”_

He doesn’t move his head, but his eyes drift towards to slowly. “What?”

Seriously? You groan in your head. This guy may be damn sexy as hell, and yeah he was dressed to kill, literally. But somehow you knew, you just really knew you would be hauling his pale ass to relationship counseling one way or another.

Well, if it got that far.

“Where are we going?” You ask.

He sighs as his black gloves rub on the leather steering wheel “Away, I need to think.”

You bite your tongue and hold back your witty backchats, as he seems to be taking a turn off onto… The Gotham City Bridge? Shuffling in your seat you look further out the window at all the cars driving by, why was Victor taking you out of Gotham?

“Victor-”

“Shut - up.” He said gradually, pausing between words and clicking on his indicator, pulling into the emergency lane at the top of the bridge. You had no idea what you were doing here of all places.

Victor looked at you briefly without a word before he left the car, giving you a good enough reason to follow behind. The air was freezing up here, although the view of the city was spectacular, no wonder this was where creepy Peter Pan liked to come here to think.

“It’s captivating - I mean the view.” You say trying not to blush, rubbing your arms. Victor’s hands were clenching the railing, peering out over the water towards the city.

“So it is.” He replied giving you a hint of a smile behind that stone like porcelain face of his.

“You’re cold.”

“No.” You smirk with your teeth chattering.

He raises a hairless brow, curling his lip, “You’re turning blue.”

“Blue’s a hot color on me.” You shrug.

Victor raises his other brow. “Not on your lips, princess.” He starts to peel off his black cashmere coat, tugging slowly down from the sleeves before he twirls it around and places it snugly over your shoulders.

The coat is warm, cloaking your body from the freezing winds and it smells amazing, like aftershave and cologne, although you weren't about to confess that to him anytime soon. “But, now you’re gonna be cold.” You pout your lips towards him, slipping your arms through the sleeves that hung over your hands.

He grins in response, taking his hands from the rail and folds them tightly against his chest. “I don’t mind a little pain.”

You roll your eyes noticing his nose turn a subtle shade of pink. “Do you come here often...to think?”

He shrugs, turning away. “Not as much as I used too.”

This did seem like an unusual place to image Victor Zsasz coming too, in your mind you could see him going to a bar or racy club to think, not exactly the Gotham Bridge. “Did something happen here?”

He lifts his chin, not talking with words.

It must have been something substantial if he used to come here often, something that had a defining moment, something that caused a lingering memory.

“Please tell me you didn’t lose your virginity here.” You smirk.

  
His face breaks off into a smile, chuckling ever so lightly. “Of sorts, but not here.” He sways his head, covering his grin with his hand, lifting his eyes to the air like he was in mid-thought trying to think back. “That was back at college, I can’t remember her name… I think it was ‘H’ something, mhm — her hair smelt like strawberries…”

“O-oh okay!” You place your palms up, “Too much information, I didn’t ask for details” You chuckle gently. “Though I am surprised you even went to college.”

He lent his hip against the rail, his arms folding tighter. “And why’s that, princess?”

“I didn’t mean to be offensive.” You affirm back.

He glares “Oh, I am taking offense.”

“Well, it’s not like you need a degree for murder, unless it’s...” you giggle. “First or second degree.”

He rolls his eyes. “Cute, very cute.” He huffs. “So where was your lucky or unlucky spot, don’t be afraid to spare the details. -”

You shouldn’t be surprised he asked. “I am not telling you, it’s a secret.” Nope, it was embarrassing and you weren’t going to tell anyone, especially not him.

“Are you sure? Secrets are dangerous.” He states back.

“Yeah, well, in this case, we can make an exception.”

He curls his lip and dips his head. “Ya know, I could always ‘make’ you talk…” He moves forward, step by step, his fancy dress shoes crunch over the rough cement.

Your eyes widen on his threat and movement. “Are we speaking in physiological torture sort of way, or something kinkier?” You had to ask staring up at him, especially with the face he made while he said it.

He gets closer, you could almost touch him. “I am in a generous mood, why not both.”

You weren’t exactly sure what that meant, whether that meant bondage, making you wear a corset, him making you create vast quantities of sugary treats for him, who knew, this was Victor Zsasz after all. “Should I even ask what that means, cause in my head all I can think of his you strapping me down in a chair while giving me a striptease… and I kinda just want to get rid of that image.”

He doesn’t say anything, he simply pushes your body against the rail so you can go no further. His hot breath grazes your skin sending shivers down your spine, his eyes are as dark as the night and he leans in forward turning his head, reaching for your waist… then abruptly he pulls back, air drifting from his nose and a silver flask in his hand.

“So that’s what goes on in that pretty little head of yours?” He grins, watching you pant for air as twists off the cap, taking a sip before asking if you wanted any. Which was a ‘hell yes’ at this point

“Watch it there princess, don’t get drunk on me.”

 

 

* * *

 

 **Fuck** , she was drunk.

Like literally drunk, a giggling mess next to him in the car. “Tell me where you live.” He tried asking three times, but all she did was laugh and refuse to tell him. “Please…”

“Nooooo… I told you to guess.”

Victor cringed, pulling over onto the side of the road so maybe he could grab her bag, maybe she had some ID on her so he could finally take her home. He knew it was poor taste to go through a ladies handbag, who knew what she actually had in there, but his options were limited and he certainly wasn’t taking her back to his place, he could just imagine Falcone’s face if he found out.

“Hey, priv-acy, pal.” She gritted her teeth as he grabbed it from under her feet.

He wasn’t going to argue, it was at least 3 AM and even he was starting to get exhausted. “Well, if just tell me, I won’t have too, will I?” Victor snaps back, opening it up. There’s a coral shade lipstick, a pen, a notepad, a pack of gum, some earphones that were tangled… how much shit can girl carry around? He sighs to he feels what seems to be keys connected to a large pink fluffy bunny keyring, “For fuck sake!” He gave her eyes while tucking them into his pocket.

“What...I like em bunnies, bruh.” She slurred her words with a large cheeky grin.

He sighs again, he can’t seem to find her fucking purse. “Where is it?”

“Where’s whaaat?” She squints an eye. “Waldo? I don’t freakin no man, he _be_ somewhere.”

“Your purse, a wallet, somewhere you keep cards, cash.” He repeats in small simple sentences, in hopes she can understand.

She tilts her head and he knows, oh he knows she going to say something sly. “It’s in my brahhh.” Her smile grows wider as his jaw clenches more to the point he can feel his teeth grinding.

“You’re lying.”

“I ain’t.” She hiccups. “I would never - not ever.” Her hands clench her chest, fondling, squeezing her breasts through her dress, forcing Victor to close his eyes and rub his face for a cooldown and reset for a mere moment, this was all too much.

“C’mon Vickie, come search me… Who knows you might find Waldo as well, he likes to hide in hard to see places...mh”

“I am not playing games anymore, just pass it over.” She didn’t seem to be listening, just playing coy and almost begging to be touched, it was hard for him to restrain a semi-appropriate professional standard, how far is this girl going to push him in one night?

Instead, he decided to go back to searching her bag in the last ditch effort before having to frisk search this drunken girl. He started pulling items out, everything he saw and there was a lot of it, the pen, the gum, the notepad, earphones, a phone in a purple sparkly cover caught his eye.

“Hey no touchies,” She snatched it from his hand. “I got personal shit on there.”

“I am not interested in your nudes, princess.” He raised an eyebrow, still searching endlessly in Pandora's box of bags.

“Pfft,” He hears her not moving his eyes, “I have a fabulous _booty.”_

He couldn’t even lie to himself, she did, she really did, which made this whole situation a lot more awkward.

“Your silence means you agree.” She snickers.

“No, it means I am trying to concentrate.” He rattles the bag, now that it is fairly empty. There definitely something still in here...but where? This was frustrating, she hid things better than a drug trafficker, in the end, it could be why Falcone wants her looked after, though he highly doubted it.

Finally, his bare fingers found a zipper, _bingo._ A silver sequined purse was inside.

“You don’t lie?” He sneered.

“That’s not mine.” She shrugged. “I ain’t never seen that shit before.”

Zsasz rolled his eyes, unzipping it before he found a fifty dollar note and a bunch of cards, a library card, no - a club card, - no - a drivers license, score. It had a picture of her on the front, hair down parted on each side, with another cheeky look on her face with her first name and last he had never seen or heard before, plus lastly an address, finally.

Everything got thrown back into her bag as he started the car up, maybe now he could take her home.

 

  
~

 

He has never been in this part of town before, it was a somewhat industrial modern second class area, it was just a lot of apartments, flats, and units. Trying to help her out of the car was even harder than getting her in the car, the way she stumbled over the gutter like she was about to fall, her shoes came off, there was no way she would be walking in those heels, so he held them in his spare hand with another around her waist.

“Upstairs, second floor.” She cooperates to his delight.

He carried her up the stairs as she nuzzled into his neck, he could have sworn she was smelling him, making him feel even more uncomfortable about this whole circumstance. This is what Victor Zsasz life had come too, taking shit from a bird, being a chauffeur for his mother, babysitting for Falcone, taking drunk girls home. What kind of fucked up life was the living, he didn’t sign up for this.

The key twisted into the lock, thank fuck for that, he didn’t know if he could hold her and pick the lock at the same time, she was already being a handful. The door opened and he was seeing her place for the first time.

It was odd, normally he was good at reading people, yet this girl, a total mystery, a surprise even.

Which he flicked the light switch on he didn’t think it could get any worse, yet it did. There was a ton of stuffed animals, posters on the walls, fluffy furry pillows on the sofa, did he forget the stuffed animals? No? Because there were a LOT.

“Ugh, princess.” He swallowed, nervously, looking around.

“Mh, what’s wrong daddy?” She smirked her pretty little lips as she peeled his coat off, revealing her little barmaid dress underneath.

“Er…” There weren’t many moments in Zsasz’s life where he was rendered completely speechless, but this was one of them, if not the worst of them.

She rolls her eyes, grabbing her keys from his hands and sliding them across the bench. “Do you want me to undress, or do you wanna do it?” A tongue licked her lips slowly, causing him to stand up straight.

“Neither, I should - Ah, should…”

“Be - undressing - me.” She winked, finishing his sentence. “I am daddy's little princess, after all, right?”

Ugh.

“N-o.” He tilted his head. “Whatever your thinking, it’s not happening.”

“Okay,” She turns her head, “let's do something I am not thinkin’ then.” She chews her lip almost appearing to try and reach his belt, but he moves back. “But I do have rules, no biting, no scratching, just no leaving marks on my skin in general.” She raises a brow, giving him a solid warning. “And no spanking me with your belt, that shit hurts, okay? Oh, and my safe word is _Pikachu.”_

He didn’t need to know that, he REALLY didn’t need to know that.

“So.” She grabs his hand before he can react. “Let's do this monster mash.”

“Uh. No. I have work, yes...yes work.” He pulled back, walking back towards the door. Fuck, he was screwed, well hopefully not, no… But she was so damn hot, fuck his life right now, nothing was worth this.

“Oh, I get it..” She sways her head to the side. “You’re scared… cute.” She purses her lips and stumbles towards her couch was she places her shoes on the floor, trying to undo the button on the back of her dress to no success.

“I am not scared, princess.” He tried folding his arms, he wasn’t lying either, he wasn’t scared, he was absolutely terrified of crossing that line, and he was fairly sure he already had, if not, standing on it, inching further over every second.

“It seems like it from where I am standing.” She replies.

He doesn’t know how, but out of all the girls, he’s ever met this one knows exactly how to claw her way under his skin. “Nope, I just don’t have any rubbers.” He states boldly. “And as I said, I have work.”

 

She huffs in a moody drunken state, “Baby,” She sways, “The only protection you need is those two pistols.”

 

 

Well, shit.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

`

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the new chap'aroo...
> 
> Will Zsasz choose the line of duty or the line of booty? WHO KNOWS.
> 
> Or will he find Waldo.  
> *Cue the X-files music*


	9. Nine and three quarters

 

Victor had always prided himself being an on the spot kind of guy, he liked to improvise with what he had, plans weren’t always his forte. Oswald usually came up with all that, he was the schemer, the planner, the plotter, Victor just held the gun and squeezed the trigger following whatever ideals his boss had desired.

It was only so often that he let him decide and even then, there were _so many choices._..too many, but all resulted in the same conclusion. But this situation? It had multiple endings, multiple choice, and neither were good nor bad, just somewhere in the middle - stuck in the middle, drifting endlessly between heaven and hell, _purgatory._

Even now he was knocking over pieces one at a time causing a cascade domino effect. He was reaping what he sew, this was all on him if he had just followed orders and stayed away this would never have happened, or would it? Debating fate his head right now was pointless and to no endeavor.

She struggled upstairs, almost tripping over each step to point he had to carry her. Swaying into her bedroom left a coy look on her face, it was almost as if he could tell what she was thinking inside her head, yet he knew by this point he’d never be able to fully read this girl, her mind itself could send The Riddler insane.

Though he had to admit one good thing came from being in this shitty spot, he enjoyed seeing a new side of this girl that wasn’t all hardcore sarcasm. He enjoyed watching her struggle and trip over her own feet, she had been for the last ten minutes, trying to remove her dress with frustration, clawing her way at the buttons on the back, forcing her to be stuck in her own sort of clothed hell.

 

“Fuck… stop standing there like a dementor and help me out of Azkaban.” She curses back at him from the doorway watching on carefree.

 

Sometimes Victor wished he had no idea what she was talking about.

 

“Fine,” she huffs giving him a cold stern look. “C’mon, aren’t you going to use your Elder Wand on me, Grindelwald? Because I am a Dumble _whore_ in bed.”  She winked at him, curling a lip at the same time.

 

Victor crossed his arms unamused, yet he remained smirking on the inside. “Are you done, Princess?”

 

“Not till I get your _nine_ and three quarters.”

 

He raised a hairless brow, as she sat down on the corner of her bed, patting an empty spot, yet he refused to budge from his upright stance. “That’s not happening.”

 

“Ugh.” She groaned gritting her teeth. “So fussy.  Fine, we can roleplay then.”

 

“I don’t —”

 

“You can be Voldie and I’ll be Dobby the sadistic house elf, _punish me.”_

 

If only he could.

 

If only.

 

Because the only thing he felt like right now would leave its mark and well, he couldn’t have that.

 

No, not at all.

 

Marks leave evidence.

 

The evidence raises questions.

 

_No._

 

She claws herself along on her hands and knees into the center of her bed, messing the sheets with each of her strides. “Gimme your clothes…and set me freeeeee.”

 

Victor cringes. “No.”

 

“You keep watching, so I know you want too.” She states the truth.

 

He raises his shoulders and his folded elbows. “Perhaps.”

 

“Just like I know you want to use that parseltongue.”

 

She flickers her tongue and Victor rubs his forehead briefing looking down at his watch, it was 3: 35 AM in the morning and it felt like 5.

 

“You have some serious problems, Princess.”

 

“My only problem Voldie,” She huffs, falling flat back onto her ass on the bed. “My...only problem…” She squints her eyes. “You don’t need to use Accio to make me come.”

 

She’s so - _so_ very drunk.

 

He could almost say she was innocent like this, dirty…but innocent nonetheless.

 

“I think you should sleep,” Victor suggests.

 

She rolls her eyes and curls up onto her side grabbing her pillow, “You’re no fun.”

 

* * *

 

 

The sun through the window wakes you up, the splitting migraine ricocheting through your head does the rest. Your mouth feels dry and your eyes shake as you try to pull yourself from the covers. A note is to your side on the bedside table next to a glass of water and two aspirin tablets.

 

Unsure of what it actually says you ignore it for a second as you down the tablets as quickly as possible, everything is a blur and your pretty sure you’re seeing double at this point.

 

You lean closer rubbing your eyes, taking the note in your clutches.

 

 

 

 

 

>   
>  _Sorry, had to work._
> 
> _**Z.** _

 

 

Did you get stood up?

 

Why was there a black sock on your bedside table?

 

Whatever the cause, you could be angry after your finished throwing up.

 

 

 

 

 

`

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, nothing sexy happens here, you know why? because that my friends would be non-consensual.  
> We're not reading Jerome here. (Poor Jerome)
> 
> And he's one ginger twin that will never die!!  
> .....Oh, wait.


	10. Is this about Jezebel?

 

**Bathe.**

 

Bathe yourself in your own despair you filthy... _filthy --_

Your phone rings amongst the water pouring down over your head, yet you remain standing under the hot water, _whomever_ it is can wait. You were busy drowning out horrible flashes, memories you were hoping were strange vivid dreams.

They _can_ wait.

 _You_ can’t.

Not like this. You shouldn’t drink when you’re nervous, it goes straight to your head, maybe that was the point. But it didn’t matter, he left… He fucking left, which means it’s all one-sided and you acted...ugh, acted like you did for no fucking reason?

 

_UGH._

 

The shower glass door slides across and the mirror was heavily fogged up, it’s probably a good thing you can’t see your own shame. _God,_ you’ve set yourself up for a lifetime worth of insomnia, great fucking job.

It wasn’t like you had enough of that already.

 

What was that sound?

 

It was ringing _again._

And again.

You sigh, grabbing a towel making your way into the kitchen where the noise was coming from.

Where was your bag?

You search around, it’s not on the kitchen bench…

Not on the table.

Not under the table.

Not on the sofa.

You lift the cushions one at a time… not there either.

 

Huh.

  
_Ring._.. **ring**...ring…

  
Seriously?

SERIOUSLY?

Turning your head you spin around trying to follow the sound - it’s coming from the stairs, it has to be.

Found it.

Third last step, of course, of course, it would be there, how could you be so...so… ugh.

  
Two voice messages.  
Nine miss calls.  
One unread text message.

  
Two of those miss calls are from your father, seven are from your boss… (or most likely ex-boss thanks to Victor)

You listened to the voice messages, they were partially the same, ‘Where are you? - blah, _blah,_ blah…’

Sighing you flicked the lid closed and went and got dressed before crashing on your bed, headache still thumping in your head. Until you realized something wasn’t right…

There was only one unread message and that was sent this morning from your father, asking if you were alright. Therefore the message from the anonymous man had been opened, yet you didn’t remember opening it and hell, you were too drunk last night unless Victor did - but you doubted it he would have. Though last time you left your phone or your bag unattended was at work maybe? Or… Falcone’s? _Sofia?_

 

**Shit.**

Well, it wasn’t like you had anything to hide…

But, you felt a little pissed off nonetheless considering she went through your bag without you knowing.

Who knows what you could have had in there, you don’t know half the time.

You opened your phone back up and scrolled down to the message again, opening and whatever was supposed to be there was gone. GONE. Did she delete it? Seriously? Only old messages from two days ago remained.

Sighing you tried to shrug it off, who knew at this point in life you could have a sister still annoy the hell out of you.

Though this wasn’t over, oh boy no.

She had simply just made the first move.

Oh, this would be fun, maybe she won’t expect it…

You could sneak up on her like a ninja then *WHAM!* glue in her mascara. What’s wrong Sofia, _can’t open your eyes?_ You laughed out loud a little too nonchalant, perhaps that was a little sinister.

Maybe you were a _Falcone_ after all.

And you had friends in semi high places…

_“ED!”_

You ruffled through your bag on your bed, you had almost forgotten about his napkin and number.

You typed it in as quick as you could, checking over the number twice before locking it in, hopefully, he didn’t give you a wrong number.

 

[ - ]

Hey! Sorry about last night.

11: 03 AM

  
You twiddle your thumbs waiting till the ‘...’ to pop up at the bottom, changing his name to something more clever in your phone book.

  
[ **?** ]

Who is this?

11: 05 AM

  
You sigh, but mentally high five yourself for your creativity.  
Though maybe 'The Green Goblin' would have been better.

  
[ - ]

You know.  
Your underpaid therapist.

11: 05 AM

 

  
[ **?** ]

Oh.  
You.

11: 06 AM

 

Bitch, you were fabulous company and your advice was always top notch quality.

[ - ]

Yes, me.  
And guess what I had a fucking  
a spectacular night out with Uncle Fester.

He was all _hands._

11: 06 AM

You laugh.

[ **?** ]

Right….

11: 07 AM

  
[ - ]

Someone has their knickers in a knot.  
And  
It’s **you.**

11: 07 AM

  
[ **?** ]

I am not grumpy, I am simply thinking.  
_Concentrating._

You are interrupting my thoughts.

11: 08 AM

  
[ - ]

About Jezebel? :(

11: 09 AM

  
Woah, his ‘...’ came up almost instantly.

  
[ **?** ]

HER NAME WAS ISABELLA.  
ISA -  
BELLA.

11: 09 AM

  
Shit, you were close.

But come on seriously? Her name was Isa - _bella?_  
Edward c’mon, that was doomed to begin with.

  
[ - ]

Still a better love story then - |

  
No.

You backspaced the words.

  
[ - ]

Omfg.  
Sorry?!

11: 11 AM

 

[ **?** ]

**-_-**

11: 11 AM

Ah.  
Still better than the _‘K’_ treatment.

  
[ - ]

How’s your day been?

11: 12 AM

  
[ **?** ]

Fine.

11: 12 AM

Mhm. You mumble with a yawn.

[ - ]

I have a hangover.  
And I am plotting revenge on my sister.

Got any tips? you are the thinking sort.  
P.s. I don’t want her to die, _just suffer._

11: 13 AM

  
[ **?** ]

You have a _sister?_

Is she the pretty or the Intelligent sort?

11: 14 AM

You narrow an eye and raise a brow.

[ - ]

Can’t she be both?

11: 15 AM

  
[ **?** ]

While being related to you?

_Unlikely._

11: 15 AM

  
[ - ]

Then which am I???!!!

11: 16 AM

“TELL ME EDWARD.”

[ **?** ]

**Neither.**

11: 17 AM

Bitch.

[ - ]

I hope you stub your toe.

11: 18 AM

  
You vindictive bastard, _you_.

Sighing you drop your phone to the side of your thigh taking a large breath, you close your eyes but you can’t sleep no matter how hard you try.

I guess you could try massaging your mysterious stranger again, you had to admit there was something intruding about talking to someone who didn’t know you in real life, so in some ways, he was easier to talk too.

 

[ - ]

Knock, knock.

12: 25 PM

 

Sometimes even you found it hard to brick the ice, especially after that last message of his, whatever the fuck it was - thanks to Sofia.

 

[ Private ]

Sorry Muffin.  
Busy.

12: 26 PM

That was quick.  
Who knew he could text so fast on the job.

[ - ]

And.  
Break the rules.  
You know you want too.

12: 26 PM

  
Peer pressure seemed like the best choice for some reason.

  
[ Private ]

Tempting.  
But I am in a bit of a sticky situation at the moment.  
Give me ten.

Fifteen max.

12: 27 PM

You sigh, rolling your eyes.

[ - ]

Oh.  
My favorite sort of situation.  
**;)**

12: 27 PM

Nice move.

Now to wait.

You look up at the clock watching the second hand tick, each second at a time.

  
  
Go make yourself a sandwich you’re going to need your energy to deal with this guy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp, another chapter down. 
> 
> Poor Jezebel.


	11. Hella in nuthella

 

 

 

[ - ]

Do you like nuts?

Or are you the _smoooooth_ sort of guy.

12: 39 PM

 

Victor cringed long and hard. He was already in a foul mood, pulling his tie loosely from around his neck, throwing it into the washing machine over his is button-down shirt and vest. The lid closed with a slam.

Apple juice.

 

Why did everyone just assume Zsasz ran some sort of hitman/daycare aftercare. First, it was Falcone’s girl, now Oswald’s new pet project Martin. Normal people would have just bought a dog or cat, not taken a small mute child they obviously could not take care of.

 

_‘Just take him out of town.’_

Victor rolled his eyes, exhausted, sleep deprived, annoyed, sticky, at least the kid couldn’t talk, that was plus.

 

[ Private ]

Do I even want to know

what the fuck you are talking about?

12: 43 PM

 

[ - ]

Peanut butter, _obviously._

12: 43 PM

 

Yes, _obviously._ Zsasz wandered into the living room to see Martin still sitting on the lounge, watching cartoons, notepad around his neck and his hair still styled like a tiny toy penguin.

 

Martian looks towards him, shirtless and standing in the door frame.

 

“What the fuck are you looking at, kid?”

 

Pen to paper he starts sketching away. ‘ - You - ‘

 

Victor rolled his eyes.

  


[ Private ]

Why are you even messaging me

Don’t you have other people to harass?

12: 44 PM

  
  
  


[ - ]

Yes.

But you are far more interesting.

You can take that as a compliment,

I know you don’t get many.

12: 44 PM

 

That was a sad truth.

Not that he really cared at the end of the day.

But, still.

 

[ Private ]

Thank

You.

**Bitch.**

12: 45 PM

 

[ - ]

You are far more grumpy than usual.

Everyone is grumpy today.

 

Is your subconscious keeping you up at night?

_Or is it just me?_

Are you thinking about me, Candy Cane?

12: 47 PM

 

Like he had any time to even think about anyone.

After last night he didn’t want to think about anything, especially not females.

 

[ Private ]

You, Muffin?

**Never.**

12: 48 PM

 

[ - ]

Awh, but I am hella cute.

Like for realz.

Hella.

I put the hella in nut _hella_

:D

12: 49 PM

 

[ Private ]

More like salmon _hella_

12: 50 PM

 

[ - ]

**._.**

 

I hope someone throws glitter in your house.

And gets it everywhere.

12: 50 PM

 

[ Private ]

Wow.

Harsh.

12: 51 PM

 

[ - ]

I know right.

I am a badass.

12: 51 PM

 

[ Private ]

I wouldn’t go that far muffin.

12: 52 PM

 

[ - ]

I am still worse than you.

I have done some super bad shit.

12: 52 PM

 

[ Private ]

I doubt that.

12: 53 PM

 

[ - ]

After my last break up.

I went into my ex’s house…

12: 53 PM

 

[ Private ]

And?

What, you killed him?

12: 53 PM

 

[ - ]

No, worse.

I opened _every_ box of cereal.

12: 55 PM

 

[ Private ]

That’s pretty sadistic even for my standards.

12: 56 PM

 

[ - ]

Sometimes I even surprise myself.

Though at the moment, I am planning revenge on my sister.

But that won’t work on her.

From what I hear she only eats dick for breakfast.

1:00 PM

 

Victor laughed.

 

[ Private ]

Shit.

Why couldn’t I have accidentally texted her instead?

1: 01 PM

  


[ - ]

Fuck you.

I am way sexier.

Just far classier about it.

And I have standards.

1: 01 PM

 

[ Private ]

Sexy, how?

1: 05 PM

  
  


[ - ]

I got meh bootie boogie perfected.

Drop me a beat

Candy C.

1: 06 PM

 

[ Private ]

Well, aren’t you a keeper.

1: 06 PM

 

 

 

 

 

 

`

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter than usual for a texting chapter, but I have been busy as hell.  
> In saying that, I am surprised I have any humour left in me. XD
> 
> P.s. Thank you for the all the lovely comments of late. It is wonderful to hear nice feedback :D


	12. Choices

  
“What do you mean I am fired?”

The words, they lingered in the back of your mind on repeat. You couldn’t believe it, this was ridiculous. It was all Victor Zsasz’s fault, but no… Your boss was a hard man and he wasn’t going to see anything you said, no matter what you did.

“Whatever happened to a second chance? I am a good worker!” Maybe arguing was a bad idea, your headache was still pounding in your head, but if you were actually being fired you had to do something… anything.

Your boss rolled his eyes, slamming his heavy rolled fist down on the desk, pens shaking and photo frame wobbled back and forth. “This is your third chance! Get outta here!”

Right.

Fine.

Whatever.

He was losing you…

And well, you weren’t losing anything.

Except for your job…

But…

“Fine then.” You threw your arms into the air. “But my daddy is gonna hear about this - that’s right bucko!” Yeah, cause causal threats were good, especially the hospitality industry. Maybe you could join the family business, start a life of crime and chaos. Then again, that seems like a lot of effort and the anxiety that came along with it would leave you emotionally discharged.

And nobody liked being around you when you were needy and emotional.

Considering you were kinda like a chihuahua, all bark but when it came down to the fundamentals, you just cried a lot and had really bad separation anxiety.

“You know what, you can’t fire me, because I quit!” perhaps you were a tad late, but it’s the thought that counted.

Plus it wasn’t like you needed this job anyway, you could get employed anywhere and the hours were crap.

Yeah...

In the heat of rage, you walked out slamming the door in your ex-bosses face. You were going to miss this job for sure, but he was going to miss you more.

 

Obviously.

 

* * *

 

 

  
[ - ]

Hey, I was wondering.  
Do you need a sidekick?  
I am broke and nobody wants me.

5: 43 PM

  
[ ? ]

No.

5: 44 PM

  
  
Well, that was worth a go.

After a long day of handing out resumes your day had been awfully uneventful. Nobody was hiring, now you were just hanging out in a park like a hobo, laying on a park bench complaining to Ed of all people.

 

[ - ]

I could be a butler.  
I can cook.  
I’ll do a French accent.  
…  
Wearing a sexy outfits costs extra <3  
5: 45 PM

[ ? ]

No, thanks.

5: 45 PM

[ - ]

But, monsieur...

5: 45 PM

  
Ten minutes you waited with no reply, whelp Riddles is down.

Next person on your contact list.

‘Godfather.’

Nope, definitely not.

You’ll need to be actually homeless and eating spaghettios of the tin before that happens.

Too bad you don’t have Sofia’s number.

You should get that.

What about Cobblepot? He had a bar, maybe he was hiring…

Yet, you didn’t have his number to call him.

Maybe Ed would.

  
It was worth a shot.

  
[ - ]

Monsieur.  
Do you…

  
Well, this was awkward as fuck.

Do you have Oswald's…  
Phone number?

6:01 PM

  
A beep rang threw your hand and you flicked your phone open quicker than you ever had. No number, but you got an address to his club. He probably just gave it to you to leave him alone, but whatever, it benefited you in the end.

It looks like you were heading the Iceberg lounge… it sounds _. Cool._

 

~

  
You had heard a lot about this place over the years at working at your old bar, but you had no idea where it was - it’s not like they advertised these sort of places to the public, they weren’t just walk in bars for everyday people on the streets.

And this place, well it was classy as fuck. No blue lights, no disorderly drunks, nope. Clean... very clean. Gotta say, you were glad you were wearing black as well, it seemed to be the main color of the environment, that and deep plum purple.

Good thing you liked purple.

Plus, to your advantage, you were fairly sure Oswald used to work for Falcone at some point, maybe name dropping your new last name would be enough to get a job, either that or killed, but a girl can hope for the best.

Regrettably, six o’clock was a little early for these sorts of places and there was only one lady sitting at the back in a lovely tight dress and short blonde hair.

“Hey, excuse me.”

Her eyes never left her glass nor finger that rang around the rim, making a small hum like tune.

“Come over, I won’t bite - much.” A smile grazes her red varnished lips, making you feel a tad uncomfortable, people with cannibalistic tendencies weren’t exactly unheard of around here.

Whelp here you were.

The blonde patted the seat next to her, signalling you to sit down on the large black stool.

You sat, swinging your legs around, flattening out your skirt on your legs.

“Barbara.” She mumbled her name, eyes to yours, watching, observing, scanning every little flaw and detail. “Who are you? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

You sucked in air, licking your teeth. “Just a washed up bartender, hoping for a job that doesn’t involve taking my clothes off or murder.”

“You may well be in the wrong city then, honey.”

True.

You breathe out, wiping your face. “Have you seen the -”

“Ozzie? Oh hmm.” Barbara smirked wickedly. “He’s probably out the back limping around, you know the usual.” She sips on drink talking with a bored voice.

She sat there for the moment just looking around, placing her hands on the bar. She seems as if she was thinking, brooding really. “I could give you job honey bun if you really wanted.”

That was quite the offer, though you had no idea who this lady was - or what she was offering.

But the way she was smiling you could take a hint.

“What kind of work? Nothing mischievous I hope, I tend to get disorientated in high-stress situations - it’s why I never became a hairdresser.”

The blonde rolled her eyes. “Nothing of the sort sweets, it’s just a little of this and a little of that - nothing major I promise.”

You doubted that, Barbara by her looks alone reeked of a woman who liked to cause drama, and you didn’t have enough witty comebacks for that sort of lifestyle. Not yet anyhow.

“Well, it sounds interesting, I’ll give it that - But I will definitely consider it if it’s not dangerous. I am too poor to afford health insurance.”

Being an adult sucked.

 

You chatted with her for a while… by then it was hard to make out who she actually was, some part of her seemed awfully all business, then in split second, Barbara seemed chatty and overly playful. You weren’t sure what to make of it.

It was shortly after you had caught a glimpse of Oswald poking head around the corner, he probably heard you both laughing like a cackle of geese, wondering what the fuck is going on, he had the facial expression that said it all.

Well, it was now or never.

“Excuse me?”

Oswald lifted his green eyes towards you as you lowered yourself from the stool. “Yes?!”

It was always in these horrible awkward moments you seemed to get tongue twisted.

Breath slowly and pace your words. Don’t be awkward, keep your head straight and your chin up high.

He agreed to speak alone with you.

That was step one accomplished.

Now you just needed to somehow get a job.

Because now it was either work here or with Psychotic Barbie out the front.

 

Choices, oh the choices.

 

 

 

`

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter is DONE and somehow I feel like there could be quiet a few chapteroos' in this.  
> And now that I have completed my six months of studying hell, there should be longer chapters hopefully. 
> 
> DOBBY IS A FREE ELF.
> 
> FURTHERMORE. Considering this a reader story. I may as well get readers opinions, right?
> 
> I'll let you guys choose.
> 
> Would you rather work for Barbs?  
> Or  
> ...Oswald? 
> 
> This could be interesting. XD


	13. All six inches

 

 

It was 3 in the morning and he laid there on the sofa wide awake, two feet resting on the armrests and arms firmly placed around a cushion, not battering an eyelid remaining heavy in thought.

Between trying to ditch Wendell for the most part and looking after Martin, it had been an agonizingly dull day. Leaving Victor to only take pleasure in the small things, wondering what his little lost lamb was doing was one of them. He did like her to some extent, though to what level he was truly unsure - he did _feel_ bad the way he left, not bad enough to feel _conflicted,_ just bad enough to know that he _should_ feel bad, even know he didn’t.

He couldn’t honestly care less.

In fact, he was almost positive now he didn’t give a fuck.

So why was he wake?

Victor snarled, turning over wishing he was back at home far away from these strange thoughts, in the comforts of his own bed. It wasn’t much to ask to want your own personal comforts, like fresh sheets and a nice shower head.

Not to forget the tranquility of one's own silence.

Then there was the other girl, the one he knew nothing about except that she was a smartass and quick with her sassy attitude. She was the kinda girl who needs shock collar and a heavy hand to leave its mark on her left ass cheek.

It was odd to admit it to himself, he did wonder frequently who she was - If he knew maybe then he would pay her a visit, it could be interesting after all.

As long as she wasn’t Oswald’s test tube sister or something, _weirder_ shit has happened in Gotham. _Or Barbara…_

Victor cringed at the idea of it being her.

 _Ugh_.

Both of his eyebrows pinched together, trying to be rid of that idea.

Barbara Kean was the equivalent to desert eagle revolver, pretty to look at but if you didn’t grip it firmly with two hands, the recoil was a bitch.

Furthermore, Barbara was definitely a two hands kind of woman, Gordon learned that the hard way - well, now that he thought about it, everyone did…

And there was just... _something_ extremely erotic about the idea of her in a wedding dress holding an axe.

Zsasz turned again, as soon the idea crossed his mind he was squeezing his eyes closed.

_“No.”_

Now he was thinking of practically anything to get that thought far beyond his mind. The quicker the better.

His thoughts quickly changed to thinking about the weird girl he occasionally speaks too, he didn’t even know her name, she didn’t even know his. Why had he never told her? Maybe the illusion of not being known for once was pleasant - or perhaps because he knew she wouldn’t message him back if she did know.

But if he did _tell_ her, she would know who he was.

Then maybe she _wouldn’t_ tell him who _she_ was… and _he_ would never know.

And some part of him _did_ want to know.

He wanted to know who _she was_ , without her knowing who _he was._

Or did _he?_

This was even more _confusing_ than thinking about Barbara now.

Great.

Victor sighed.

Pulling out his phone he scrolled down the list of contacts. Victor wished he had a name for his random girl instead of searching through a whole jumble of numbers.

 

  
[ Private ]

Are you up?

3: 10 AM

 

 

[ - ]

I am now, jerk.

3: 11 AM

 

  
At least he was getting some payback now. Yet, Zsasz still managed a menacing grin.

 

[ Private ]

Were you having dreams about me, muffin?

3: 11 AM

 

  
[ - ]

Duh.  
It was super hot.

3: 11 AM

She was joking but it was still intriguing, And somehow he felt drawn in a way he couldn’t quite place.

  
[ Private ]

Go on.

3: 12 AM

  
[ - ]

You got me like tots preggos.  
Then my father got pissed off  
and shot you in the spleen.  
He’s the kinda guy that would do that.

3: 13 AM

  
Sounds like a nice kind of man.

  
[ Private ]

I would rather be shot then deal with children.  
Especially yours.  
And defiantly my own.

3: 13 AM

  
Victor had a lot of energy and stamina, just not that much.

But he found himself typing a second message before she typed her own.

[ Private ]

Do you have children?

3: 14 AM

 

  
[ - ]

Negative.  
SIR

I would ask you back.  
But I already know that you don’t.

3: 14 AM

Clever girl.

  
[ Private ]

Affirmative.  
I rather not share my candy.

3: 15 AM

 

  
[ - ]

What do you dress up as for Halloween?

3: 15 AM

  
Victor shook his head with a cringed smile, it had been a long time since he had done anything of the sorts.

 

[ Private ]

Myself, because what could be more frightening?

3: 16 AM

 

  
[ - ]

Dunno.  
Probably a lot of things.

Especially me past midnight, I am wearing a bunny onesie  
The hood has ears.  
Fuck yeah.

3: 17 AM

 

  
For a moment he could almost picture that, some girl curled up in soft blankets rugged up in some stupid pajama's that somehow, made them look inviting.

 

[ Private ]

You are an odd girl.

3: 19 AM

 

  
[ - ]

Thx.  
I know.  
But seriously these jammies are sexy as fuck.  
You thought you had seen sexy before?  
You’ve just never seen a gal in a bunny onesie.  
It’s a whole new level.

3: 19 AM

  
It was an odd thought, one Victor had never had before - one he never would likely have again… yet….

His phone buzzed in his hand on silent.

  
[ - ]

[ 1 Image Attached ]

3: 25 AM

  
Victor never opened something quicker in his life.  
His eyes scanned every detail, no face, the picture was taken in what appeared to be a bathroom to the white tiles in the background. Damn.  
Just a body, in a fully clocked outfit… holy shit.

Zsasz swallowed, blinking just a few times.

Until his phone buzzed again.

[ - ]

[ 1 Image Attached ]

It even as a tail ;)

3: 27 AM

She had turned around just to show him, the little fucking minx was trying to get under his skin and it was working like clockwork.

Fucking hell.

Fuck.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

You couldn’t stop laughing.

Did that seriously just happen? Did you just show this random dude your ass in oversized rabbit pajamas? Yes, yes you did and without regrets. This was perfect. Art of itself.

It had been a solid ten minutes now without reply, he either was extremely weirded out or extremely flushed, either way, was a win in your book.

Oh the poor guy, you almost felt sorry for him now.

Though how could you, it was past midnight and still pissed that he woke you up. Not that you were fully asleep yet anyway.

He deserved it.

If anyone did, it was him.

  
[ - ]

Fuck you take foooooorever.  
Do you want another,  
Or are you done yet?

  
3: 35 AM

 

[ Private ]

What?

3: 37 AM

 

[ - ]

Bitch, don’t play coy with me.

3: 38 AM

  
Like he was going to fool you, nobody takes that long to reply at 3 am.

  
[ Private ]

o.O

3: 38 AM

Oh. OH.

[ - ]

And you said I was weird.  
Go take your viagra and get it over and done with.  
3: 39 AM

 

[ Private ]

I am 35.

3: 39 AM

You laughed.

Shit.

[ - ]

Lol. You old fuck.

3: 39 AM

 

  
[ Private ]

I am not old.

3: 39 AM

 

  
[ - ]

No, you are hella old.  
HELLA

3: 39 AM

  
It wasn’t, you were simply trying to bother him.  
It seemed like it was working.

Though, it was intriguing to know his age.  
He was like a proper adult.  
With adult skills.

  
[ Private ]

I AM NOT OLD.

3: 39 AM

 

[ Private ]

I wish, your personality was as pleasing as your body.

3: 39 AM

 

[ Private ]

If only.

3: 39 AM

 

 

[ - ]

Too much hotness is a bad thing.  
And some people happen to love my personality.  
FYI.

3: 41 AM

 

  
[ Private ]

Like who?  
Deaf people.  
Sure.

3: 41 AM

 

  
[ - ]

Fuck you.  
For someone who is such a _giant_ dick  
You sure do have _little_ of it.  
Or is that why you are overcompensating?

3: 42 AM

 

  
[ Private ]

One day, little girl.  
One day.

3: 43 AM

 

  
[ - ]

What?  
Are you gonna stab me?  
**AT LEAST I’LL FEEL SOMETHING.**

3: 45 AM

 

  
[ Private ]

Oh, you’ll feel something.  
All 6 inches.

3: 45 AM

Shit.  
WELL.

You breathed in.

_Fuck._

 

 

 

 

 

_`_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well.  
> It seems like Oswald won the vote on the last chapter. It was rather close though, more than I thought it would be - SO, in that case - You won't be working for her, instead maybe just some girly bonding time will be pleasant for some chapters?
> 
> Just enough to annoy papa bear and baldy boy scout.  
> Of course. 
> 
> \- 
> 
> So Oswald will commence next chapter. :D
> 
> -  
> Also, I didn't know how old Victor was, so I just went off how old his actor was.  
> *Shrug*  
> It seemed like the reasonable thing to do.


	14. Psychotic Barbie

  
There’s a defining moment in everyone’s life where you have a blonde homicidal maniac standing over your bed, looking down, yelling ‘get dressed.’ But what are you supposed to do in these circumstances? What did she mean by getting dressed?

Did she mean get _dressed?_

Or…

 _Get_ dressed?

Who would know? Were you supposed to be throwing on a raincoat or some kind of leather montage? Because you didn’t have one of those conveniently placed away in a shoebox somewhere.

“Get up.” Barbara barked, grabbing the warm confines of your blankets and peeling them down off your body, exposing you suddenly to the morning chill. Now you were just forever grateful you didn’t sleep _naked_ because this could have been a terrible moment. Though giant rabbit pajamas had to take the cake on the next most awkward scenario… just slightly.

“Alright, a’ight, fuck.” Last night was rough, how much sleep did you get? Not much by the way you were feeling. Did you _fall_ asleep on him?

Wait, how did Barbara get inside your apartment?

How did she know where you lived?

Did she _stalk_ you?

You could almost be flattered if you weren’t also somewhat freaked out, though it was presumably a better idea not to ask - because, in all honesty, you didn’t really want to know.

“Why.” You yawned stretching out your arms wide. “...Are you here?”

“Why are you dressed like a fucking rabbit?”

That was probably a more genuine question, however simply answered. “They were $10 on _eBay_ and I have poor self-control.”

Plus it was really fucking comfy and nobody was complaining when you were home alone.

Barbara rolled her eyes with a deep sigh.

“Hey don’t knock it until you have tried it. These are world changing.” You slowly pull yourself up out of bed, immediately regretting the decision.

“For instance, _birth control_ , In this -” You pause to pull at the pink fabric. “It’s not required nor _needed.”_

At least that comment got a rise out of her, even if it was just one eyebrow. “Wow, who would have guessed.”

_Sarcasm._

It wasn’t so great on the receiving end. “Well, oh yeah - I am going to take a shower and get dressed.” You pointed towards the bathroom, trying to get her to leave the room and put an end to this odd confrontation.

 

~

 

Get dressed… get dressed… get dressed…

In what?

You stood there for a consecutive two minutes coiled in a moist towel staring into your wardrobe like it was a grand ever growing abyss. Casual attire would have to suffice. A basic black shirt, _yes._ Jeans, _why not._ You pulled them on one at a time, lastly grabbing a dark green flannelette shirt over the top.

Barbara was downstairs sitting at the by the kitchen counter, you could have sworn she had foul look on her face, but that could just be resting bitch face for all you distinguished.

“Did you sleep well?” She asked turning slowly, hot coffee in hand.

“Until I was woken _twice,_ yeah -”

Although, falling asleep on that guy last night was probably the best decision you made recently, and you did it by accident, which was saying something. But you had to admit he was cute with all his one-sided flustered anger issues.

Some boys would have just blushed, him, however, he liked to throw around threats. In the end was probably just some dork with nothing better to do than harass people.

You knew this from personal experience.

“Twice?”

“Yeah, I’ve been texting this strange guy - well, he’s been messaging me - okay it’s kinda mutual.” You wandered to the counter to make yourself a hot drink. “And well, I dunno who he his, but he gets irritated really easy.”

“Well, that really boils it down doesn’t it?” Barbara rolled her eyes again, placing down her mug.

“He lives in Gotham, apparently.” You shrug.

“Then I hope for your sake it isn’t Harvey or one of Jim's other friends.”

“I don’t know who that is.”

“I am guessing you’re new here if you haven’t had those two idiots at your door at some point.”

Or maybe you just haven’t done anything to have two men at your door? You raised a brow in question, turning on your heels to face her.

“I have to ask, why are you here exactly?”

Barbara thinned her lips and shrugged her shoulders, “I need help getting into a place.”

A place? That was awfully vague. What were you some kind of dragon battling _hobbit?_ No, no, you weren’t a burglar.

And she definitely wasn’t any Gandalf the Grey.

“Help - you - get - into a place?” You recite the words slowly, trying to retrace her steps, mainly to try and find out where everything went wrong, and somehow got lost in translation.

“Yes, I just need you to watch my back.”

Didn’t she have others to do this?

“Fine, whatever.” It wasn't like you had anything better to do this morning.

 

***

 

  
When the car engined stopped you had no idea exactly where you were. Just another rich area of Gotham. Barbara had been awfully quiet the entire trip and you were unsure why she wanted to be here of all places.  
  
“Why are we here?”

“I need to check something, just hurry up, don’t touch anything and keep your head down.”

Right, that made you feel loads better.

It didn’t take her long to pick the lock on the front door. To your astonishment, the house was even larger on the inside then it seemed out the front, and there was a lot of windows in here, the big kind. Maybe rich people could never understand how much those windows would be a bitch to clean.

You groan slowly, walking through the house with Barbara to your right. She did seem objectionably frustrated, perhaps even disturbed for some reason.

Whose house was this?

Why were you here?

Especially the last question tugged at you, did Barbara peer pressure you into this, or was this you being stupid and making idiot decisions as per usual?

“Did you find what you’re looking for?” You said, speaking through a wall, unaware of where your blonde friend had left you.

But she didn’t answer.

Thus you kept poking around, maybe looking for something to do - something to study that would answer your nagging questions raging on into your head. That was until you found a bedroom up the long winding stairs.

White sheets were crisp and neatly folded and there was an end table to the right of the bed, it had a photo frame facing down.

Odd.

Very odd.

You walked closer, to pick up the frame - to place it back up… but…

“Oh, shit.”

You dropped it out of shock, watching it tremble from your fingers and bounce of the hard polished, oak floorboards, smashing into a thousand shards of glass.

The picture…

It was - your father and well, Sofia...

This was Sofia’s house?

Her place?

EW!

You kicked the frame quickly knocking it under the bed, “Sorry, _dad!”_

This was bad.

Oh dear lord.

  
“I told you not make any sound, shit!” Barbara hissed, from behind. “What did you do?!”

You swiped the last bit of glass under the bed with your shoe.

Breathe, _act innocent._

“Nothing! But sweet baby Cheesus you scared the hell out me!”

Did you just say that? Barbara had the same look on her face, thinking the same thing.

“We need to get out of here, c’mon.”

You agreed silently, balling your hands up anxiously - letting her walk in front of you. You needed to breathe, close your eyes and just pause for a moment and let everything just simmer down in your brain. Why was Barbara in Sofia’s house? YOU were in Sofia’s house - why were you here? Why was she here?

What did Barbara want with Sofia?

Did she do something?

Or was Barb just starting shit? she did seem like the type.

Oh dear.

It was only then when you opened your eyes did you hear a sound coming from downstairs, footsteps. Not hers, not yours, they were taken with a heavy deliberate stride.

“Well, well, gotta say, I didn’t expect to see you here - though I am not complaining, you do have a way of making my job a lot easier.”

You knew that voice.

That tall fucker.

That tall skinny, nimble, moderately attractive fucker.

Yet, he did look amazing in black - it was his only redeeming quality.

But he didn’t know you were here.

Not yet.

“Yeah I like you in that,” You sung, dancing down from the steps, _“Like I like you to scream, but if you open your mouth, then I can't be responsible for quite what goes in … Or to care what comes out.”_

Well damn, that sounded a lot less sexual in your head.

And now Barbara was knowing giving the oddest of looks.

“It’s a song by The Cure - because…” You turn to gesture to all his black… but instead, you were greeted by an even more foul look on his face. Not forgetting those mesmerising dark menacing eyes that pierce right through your soul.

However, to your surprise, Victor for some reason lowered the gun he had pointed in the air. “What are you doing here?!”

Barbara leaned up against the counter. “You two know each other?”

You shrug your shoulders casually, briefly looking back. “We may have dated _once_.”

Zsasz’s lips thinned. “We _\- did_ \- not.”

“Okay, it was _one_ date.”

“It _wasn’t_ a date.”

“It seemed like a date to me.”

Victor argued back. “It wasn’t a _date…”_

  
“Okay,” Barbara, raised both her hands. “It - wasn’t a date…” She back at you, trying to get the message across, either that or trying to get you to shut up - probably both.

  
“He carried me.”

“You _carried_ her?”

“She was drunk.”

“Because you _made_ me drunk.”

“I didn’t _force_ you.”

“Whoa, whoah.” Barbara, slapped her hand down on the counter, making a loud thump. “You carried her?” She laughed.

  
Victor rolled his eyes, stepping forward. He had enough and didn’t seem like he was going to take any more shit today at all. Which was pretty much like every day, but today was different.

Because you were in the middle of it.

More specifically in between Victor and his target.

  
“You shouldn’t be hanging around her, princess -” Victor looked to you coldly. “You’re gonna make the wrong people mad.”

That made you cringe. “I can hang out with anyone I want, Victor.” You crossed your arms frustrated, “Barbara, I think you should leave.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” She said back jaded, walking for the front door.

But Zsasz steps to the side, as you step in sync in front. “I can’t let her walk away, princess.” He finally says as she reached the doorknob.

You pull a smile a look up to him. “Not even if I say please really nicely?”

“Nope.”

“What if I kick you in the crotch really hard?”

“No - what?” Victor goes to stare down, just as your foot pivots up as fast as you can. You always prided yourself in being a woman who didn’t take shit from guys, but this was a badass level of itself, kicking Victor Zsasz in the nads.

And well, you just sent him straight down fascination street.

“Sorry, Victor.” You did feel bad a little, more so for the next move. Your hands moved down to him, quickly grabbing both of his guns.

“P- _princess_.” He tried to grab one of your ankles but you booted him off, “Look, they’ll be on me - so don’t bother going to my house - If you want them back, they will be Iceberg Lounge at 9, got it?” You roll your head to the side, watching him as you walk away.

Possibly you had a little too much Falcone blood in you.

Perhaps way too much.

“So just pull on your hair.” You sang opening the door, halting before it could close. “Just pull on your pout, and let's move to the beat… Like we know that it's _over.._.” You stopped just so you could smile briefly back before waving.

Today was going to be a long day.

 

  
***

 

  
“Thanks, for back there.” Barbara looked to you as you opened and sat into the seat, Victors twin pistols still fast in your hands, they were nice and they probably killed a lot of people too.

You nodded back to her as she started the car, “No problem, but why were you there - Why was Victor there? I would rather not be kept in the dark.”

Barbara sighed hands resting on the wheel, “I was just grasping at straws and for Zsasz - it’s a long story, Ozzie and I don’t get along most of the time.”

“So, he sends Victor after you, like a fucking fruit basket nobody wants?”

“Pretty much,” She breathed out, “I guess you probably want to go home -” That was far from it, you didn’t want to go home... Now… definitely not.

“Nope, I’ll just stay with you a little longer, if you don’t mind.”

You really didn’t know what Barbara was doing, you half expected her to take you back to her place or where ever she congregates these days.

But out of all the places on earth she could have been traveling, you least expected it would have been the bridge heading straight into the heart of The Narrows.

This place wasn’t the ideal area to be...at any time.

“The Narrows, you have business here?”

“For now, yes.”

“Great, but you could have warned me to get a hepatitis shot.”

Barb looked at you. “Damn, I should have thought of that.”

_Yeah…_

Yeah.

You sigh.

  
-

  
This place was shady.

Therefore you stayed close to the blonde's side. For some reason, it seemed like wisest course of action. She stopped at an iron door, knocking twice.

It slid open and guess who it was…

Oh yes.

Yes, indeed.

  
“Mind opening the freaking door before we are eaten by rats?” The blonde pushes Edward out of the way, with a single knock to his chest.

You weren’t gonna stand around either, so you followed after.

This where he lived? Or maybe it was a place he stayed? You had no idea, but it made your place seem like a palace compared to all the rust, metal and funky smells.

“What is she doing with you?” The familiar man dressed in all green asked Barbara.

“Yeah, great one Ed, speak to me like I am not here, why don’t you. “ You roll your eyes at him with a huff. “It’s nice to see you.”

“Likewise.” He repeated, standing tall.

Was that a fucking weaseling ring? Holy shit….

The Narrows was fucking brutal.

Damn.

Barbara didn’t seem fazed by it at all, she didn’t even look around, for she was far too busy just chatting away with Ed like all this was nothing.

“I know you have him around here somewhere -” You heard your blonde friend, hiss towards Ed.

What did she mean?

“I don’t - know what you’re talking about,” Ed said backcrossing his arms.

“Don’t play dumb with me Nygma. How long did you think you could hide him from me? He should have stayed dead the first time.”

Who?

“Grundy - kill?”

Holy mother of… _dragons._

That…

Was a big man.

Thumb.

Thumb.

Thumb.

Thumb.

He moved forward, green, massive, huge.

Never in your life did you imagine...

“Shut the front door, you have your own, _Hodor?!_ EPIC.” Your eyes widened.

He didn’t seem to listen though, Ed nor the large green Grundy, who just kept muttering the same thing over and over.

“No,” Edward shouted. “I told you to stay at the back, how many times do I have to repeat it?!”

Barbara seemed half amused now, kinking her head to the side. “Well. It’s an improvement, I’ll give it that.”

“You’re not having him.”

“Friend, _keep_ Grundy?”

Edward turned. “Shut up.”

“Awh, you finally have a friend, congrats - that’s a first. But, seriously Eddie, you need to keep your lover bird off my back.” Barbara cooed.

Ed’s face turned burned bright red, not happy at all.

Considering you were now working for Oswald too, it had you a little concerned. He didn’t seem that bad when you had met him, he was just polite and friendly, if not just a tad flustered, but that happens to the best of us.

  
But before your thought could process your pocket began to vibrate in your pocket…

Who was calling?

You quickly dug it out, before you could flip it open.

It was your _father._

Well.

Fantastic.

 

 

 

 

 

 

`

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “So, he sends Victor after you, like a fucking fruit basket nobody wants?” - Best insult I have ever made. 100% XD
> 
>  
> 
> Looks like Oswald is being pushed to the next chapter - OH WELL. ( I didn't want to rush things )
> 
> ALSO. Thank you to everyone who leaves LOVELY comments!!! 
> 
> The song from this chapter is, Fascination Street - by The Cure. 
> 
> The Cure is amazing. 
> 
> Though for humour crack wise, we can all say it should have been a Taylor Swift song - though, I am just going to sit here and pretend I don't know any lyric's of hers...heha ha oh.
> 
> Mhm.
> 
> *Walks away slowly...*


	15. Let's play twister

 

9: 30.

He wasn’t there and your phone had been turned off. You didn’t want to talk to your father, you knew why he was calling, you weren’t an idiot. He knew what you were doing, disapproved of your company, or maybe he just figured out you got a job with Oswald Cobblepot, who knew, you really didn’t care in the end, you had to work and you weren’t about to accept his handouts.

But the question still remained where was Victor Zsasz? You assumed he’d be here, demanding back is toys, ready to pull you away again and give you a stern talking too, but he wasn’t here - he was nowhere to be seen. Were you worried?

No, of course not. You didn’t care for Victor, he was an ass most of the time and you barely got along and all the other moments you spent together trying not to claw each other's throats out.

_Yet._

It still lingered in the back of your mind.

 

10.

He still wasn’t here, your eyes had a hard time parting from the clock, whether it was that or your new boss giving you his frosty green eyes from across the bar, with two fingers reaching out to guests to serve, maybe your mind was a little clouded.

 

10: 35.

Still, nothing, absolutely nothing, not even a peep from the bald man dressed in black, if he showed himself here, without a doubt he would have stood out.

 

11.

Were you anxious or just bored? Maybe a little of both, your sights still wandered about the club and the man of the night still hadn’t arrived, just some shady other characters and another broad man dressed in leather whistled you over with two fingers in his mouth.

“Hey, there gorgeous,” His dark eyes looked you over making you feel uncomfortable, after all, you had borrowed one of Barbara’s dresses so didn’t have to return home, and it didn’t exactly fit well, it was very, very tight and short, but it was the only thing that actually fitted.

You got the man a drink as quickly as you could, you didn’t want him stalling at the bar for long. But that’s exactly what he did.

“Have I seen you around before? I think have I would never forget such a fine -”

Zoned out on the last part you tried to move away, not caring less what he had to say, though you knew it was inappropriate. Urging you to guess there were people like this everywhere in Gotham, from the back street bars all the way up to the classy places like this.

Idiot’s and creeps were inescapable.

 

11: 30.

Somehow you managed to ditch the random guy trying to chat you up, either that or Mr. Cobblepot saw him bothering you and had him taken away, either way, suited you just fine. Midnight was when your shift ended, and every passing minute seemed to set your prediction in stone, Victor wasn’t coming.

Was he banned from here?

You didn’t think that would be the case.

Was he busy?

Maybe.

But, more likely than not he was waiting out the front somewhere, ready to pull you into a dark alleyway and frisk you down.

Or perhaps that's wanted you wanted to happen…

No, definitely not, especially not dressed like this, you looked like a gourmet sausage. And well, Victor, kinda had this whole 1980’s Squidward vibe happening, and you still weren’t sure how to feel about that.

 

12.

It was time to go home and Victor hadn’t shown up the whole time. Looks like his guns weren’t that important after all, then again he probably had plenty more weapons at home to choose from. Ah well.

You took your apron off and folded it back up, before pulling your hair loose down upon your shoulders. You said farewell to Mr. Cobblepot and thanked him again for your new job, he seemed to have been happy with your performance, or he at least didn’t say anything that implied otherwise.

Nobody was waiting outside.

Damn.

Where was he? How dare him to be so...late.

This wasn’t fun at all. Teasing him was the highlight of your night and now, well… he had positivity ruined it. Spoilsport.

Coming home your place was empty, everything was the same, nothing had been moved, nothing changed, the door was still locked and two mugs were left in the sink.

Mhm.

Well, at least he didn’t bother coming back after you told him not too.

You went upstairs and took the dress off, but you weren’t tired, your mind was still running faster than you could comprehend each thought.

So you went back downstairs in a more comfortable garb.

A large t-shirt that fit like a dress.

You closed the windows, securing them tight and drew the curtains down, leaving the front door the only way in. Some part of you knew - or maybe just hoped he’d stop by _unannounced._

 

1: 23.

“Hey, _listen.”_

“Shut up Navi, I know what I am doing goddamnit!”

Iron springs twitch in your ears with the sound of metal turning.

Great, just great.

He had to come right now of all times? Well, you weren’t going to pause now.

The door opened, you didn’t turn your head but you could feel the cold, sharp breeze hit the back of your neck. “Close the door dip shit.” You hissed through your teeth, hearing the door slam closed without a second word.

It was quiet after that, too quiet.

You paused your game with a sigh, turning on your knees to look over the sofa to see the man in black still looking at you from the front door.

“Well?”

He didn’t say anything but he looked...exhausted.

Which serves him right anyhow.

“You can kill me after I finish, until then - do whatever you want, your shit is on the table.” You unpaused the game and started playing again, but the sound of him creeping around in the back was a little unsettling until he took a seat right beside you.

His eyes were on you, making your own peel slowly from the screen. “What?” You shook your head.

“You can’t tell me what to do, princess.” He said back, blank with expression.

“Yeah, well I am balls deep in the Water Temple right now, so…” . _..Death would be really inconvenient._

Not that he would regard your feelings. Victor relished in others suffering, but more than that he desired to create the misery himself.

And yet he shifted his head when he spoke, staring you right in the eyes. “I don’t care.”  
  
You huffed, placing the controller down. “Maybe you should, because if you fuck up my level right now - I will attack you - with a pillow - till you die.”

That was a promise.

This quest was intense.

However, that didn’t stop him from standing and walking over to the television. “Victor, don’t touch anything.”

He smiled bearing his white teeth.

He was a monster.

An absolute monster of a person.

“...Don’t you even think about touching that power switch.”

He flicked it and everything turned off.

What kind of abomination messes with the _Ocarina of Time?_

Victor Zsasz, that’s who.

  
“I am going to enjoy murdering you for that!” You barked throwing the first thing you could grab which was a fluffy purple pillow, hitting him in the chest.

He didn’t flinch.

Shit.

He pinched his brows together not impressed. “Are you done?”

“No. No, I am not.” Narrowing your eyes towards the dark assassin you grabbed another pillow, holding it tight in your hands. “C’mon Victor, hit me... do it, I dear you!” You said trying to urge him on.

Although all he did was raised hairless brows and folded his arms. “No.” He was being stubborn. But you too can play that game.

You moved to the side following his steps, his eyes locked on yours. Victor may have been a trained murderer, but you were annoyed girl who just had her Nintendo 64 turned off.

And that was the lowest of actions.

“Give it up princess, I don’t have the energy to play games.”

“Then you shouldn’t have turned mine off!” You jumped forward, striking his shoulder with a swift blow.

Struggling, Victor tries to unarm you, ripping the pillow from your hands. “I told you to stop, I won’t ask twice.”

Ugh.

He grabbed your arms when you started to confirm that you were indeed not listening. “Unhand me you filthy mudblood!” You cursed, squirming under his vise-like grip.

“Princess…” Victor dragged on, flipping you over and holding down onto the sofa with a thump. “Stop making this difficult for yourself.”

Difficult? Pfft, you had simply just moved past plan A, and C… yes, so what if he was holding you in some kind of death grip… this merely a challenge, one you weren’t giving up anytime soon.

His grasp was tight upon your wrists, no matter how much you attempted to struggle his hands just seemed to grow tighter and stronger. Therefore you began to move your legs, kicking them up you pushed on his chest while throwing the other over his shoulder.

Until you realized that both of your knees seemed to have migrated from where ever they were to behind his ears.

Trapped.

Now all you could do was look at each other.

Huh.

“Ya’ know…” You paused, biting your lower lip, gazing at the assassin pinned between your knees. “I didn’t expect this until our _third_ date.” You laughed.

 

Victor forced you off.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

`

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even know this chapter is terrible, I wrote it maybe 5 different times... Ah, oh wells.  
> And to be honest, Victor is the hardest character I have ever written. Its just there's no grey area for Zsasz, it's either good or bad.
> 
> Damn you, Victor!! *shakes fist*
> 
> B U T.
> 
> Thank you for reading :D
> 
> P.s.
> 
> If ever write anything offensive let me know, this really isn't a serious fic and it is basically all crack with a tad of plot, but... it's always safe to know when I might be pushing it.


	16. He has a heart

[ **-** ]

Sometimes I wish I was a dolphin

so then maybe I could swim away from my problems.

1: 02 PM

 

[ Private ]

Plus, when you open your mouth

You’d be considered _cute_ not _annoying._

1: 20 PM

 

[ - ]

That too.

1: 24 PM

 

[ Private ] 

Also, stabbing you in the blowhole would easier.

1: 24 PM

 

[ - ]

what.

Are you _flirting_ with me?

or do you just like playing with utensils?

I do love a man who is as good in the sack, as he is in the kitchen.

1: 25 PM

 

[ Private ] 

No.

1: 27 PM

 

[ - ]

**< /3**

You totally flirted.

And you totally DIGGED my bunny jammies.

1: 30 PM

 

[ Private ]

They were… interesting.

1: 32 PM

 

[ - ]

Uhm. no, they were amazing.

THEY HAD POCKETS.

1: 33 PM

 

[ Private ]

Why do you need pockets in pajamas?!

1: 33 PM

 

[ - ]

Ah, hello.

All kinds of pockets are amazing.

… and my hands get cold from no one holding them D:

1: 34 PM

 

[ Private ]

Boo hoo.

My condolences.

1: 40 PM

 

[ - ]

YOU ARE SO MEAN.

WHY?

Did someone hurt you?

1: 40 PM

 

[ Private ]

No

I wish someone would hurt you.

1: 43 PM

 

 [ - ]

You need Prozac pal.

A pizza

And a ginger cat.

1: 50 PM

 

[ Private ]

Pills - no.

Pizza - yes.

Cat? Why

2: 04 PM

 

 [ - ]

So you can name it, _Jerome._

It’s what I’d do.

2: 05 PM

 

[ Private ]

You have terrible ideas.

2: 23 PM

 

 [ - ]

I do.

2: 25 PM

 

[ Private ]

What’s your name?

2: 36 PM

 

 [ - ]

Now, you ask?

Pfft, I ain’t telling you.

2: 37 PM

 

[ Private ]

Why?

2: 37 PM

 

 [ - ]

Cause you’re _probably_ a serial killer.

2: 38 PM

 

[ Private ]

And….

2: 39 PM

 

 [ - ]

There is no ‘and’ that’s it.

I don’t need a second reason.

**...**

And I don’t need body parts in my mailbox.

Or love letters written in blood.

2: 41 PM

 

[ Private ]

That’s very 80’s, muffin.

Just tell me.

2: 42 PM

 

 

 [ - ]

No, tell me who you are.

2: 43 PM

 

[ Private ]

Why?!

2: 53 PM

 

 [ - ]

I dunno, so I know who to get a restraining order against if need be.

2: 54 PM

 

[ Private ]

I am shocked.

You think I am a stalker?

2: 54 PM

 

 

 [ - ] 

Yes.

2: 55 PM

 

[ Private ] 

Clever girl.

2: 55 PM

 

[ - ]

I KNEW IT.

3: 01 PM

 

[ Private ]

Don’t get cocky, little girl.

3: 03 PM

 

[ - ]

Cocky and cute is my permanent state of being.

3: 05 PM

 

[ Private ]

I am not surprised.

3: 08 PM

 

[ - ]

YOU JUST SAID I WAS CUTE!! QωQ’

3: 08 PM

 

[ Private ]

Maybe…

3: 12 PM

 

[ - ]

OMG.

HE HAS A HEART.

 

WE ARE OFF TO SEE THE WIZARD.

THE WONDERFUL WIZARD OF OZ…

3: 17 PM

 

[ Private ]

Shut up, muffin.

3: 17 PM

 

[ - ] 

Never, cupcake.

3: 18 PM

 

[ Private ]

Don’t start.

3: 19 PM

 

[ - ]

You started.

3: 19 PM

 

[ Private ]

I don’t need a name to find you.

Don’t make me.

3: 25 PM

 

[ - ]

Do it.

DO IT.

DO IT.

DOOOOOOO IT.

:D

3: 27 PM

 

[ Private ] 

I am going to hit you.

3: 27 PM

 

[ - ]

With… your lips?

3: 29 PM

 

[ Private ]

With my car.

3: 29 PM

 

[ - ]

So hostile!

I L O V E I T.

3: 30 PM

 

[ Private ]

...Seriously?!

3: 33 PM

 

[ - ]

I have shitty taste in men.

I HAVE EMBRACED IT.

3: 35 PM

 

[ Private ]

I am not shitty taste.

Thanks.

3: 37 PM

 

[ - ]

I wasn’t talking about you

;D

 

Jks, _I so am._

3: 38 PM

 

[ Private ]

I hate you.

3: 50 PM

 

[ - ]

If you did, you would have blocked my number AGES ago, pal.

3: 51 PM

 

[ Private ]

Can you do that?

Hold on a second.

3: 51 PM

 

[ - ]

WHAT.

3: 51 PM

 

[ - ]

DON”T YOU DARE.

3: 52 PM

 

[ - ]

COME BACK.

D’:

4: 00 PM

 

[ Private ]

Mhm.

Kidding.

4: 07 PM

 

[ - ] 

I hope someone drops a house on you.

And steals your shoes.

4: 07 PM

 

[ - ] 

_I was joking…_

4: 14 PM

 

[ - ] 

Cupcake?

5: 55 PM

 

[ - ]

Sorry…. …?

6: 32 PM

 

[ - ] 

Are you alive?

8: 45 PM

 

[ Private ]

Sorry, got stabbed.

9: 12 PM

 

[ - ]

WHAT.

WHAAAAAAAT?

Are YOU OKAY?

9: 14 PM

 

[ Private ]

No, my favorite coat got ruined :(

9: 14 PM

 

[ - ]

But…

Didn’t… that ya’ know… hurt?

9: 15 PM

 

[ Private ]

It stung a little bit, yeah.

9: 17 PM

 

[ - ]

You should probably go to a hospital.

9: 17 PM

 

[ Private ]

Why? I’ll just walk it off, muffin.

9: 18 PM

 

[ - ]

That’s a very bad idea.

Do anything but that.

9: 18 PM

 

[ Private ]

I am going to go pull this thing out.

It’s going to get messy.

 

Later.

9: 22 PM

 

[ - ]

Omfg, pal.

You’ve been messaging me this whole time with it still in you?

 

That’s so metal.

<3

9: 23 PM

 

[ - ]

P.s I was going to make a pulling out joke. But I lost my chance.

Sweet dreams.

**...**

I hope you don’t die!

10: 10 PM

 

 

 

 

 

 

`

 

 

`

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I enjoyed this chapter. THERE IS DEVELOPMENT.


	17. Cookie dead drop

 

 

[ - ]

Please tell me you are alive.

1: 30 PM

 

It was pouring rain outside, it had been for hours now since you had awoken from a bad night's sleep.

Now all you could do was try and lose yourself in a book, considering it was a just another lazy Saturday and you had nowhere to be. But no matter how much you tried, your attention was pulled elsewhere, back to that strange man who somehow was so easy to talk too.

Was he okay?

 

You hoped he was, but in all honesty, he seemed to be more worried about his coat then his actual health, maybe this wasn’t new to him. It was certainly new for you to have some message mid-stab.   

Now on the edge of your seat, you could barely sit still.

 

[ - ] 

Pls, don’t be dead.

1: 51 PM

 

[ Private ]

So.. clingy, muffin.

I am fine.

2: 02 PM

 

You jumped at the message and sighed in relief. This guy had you up all sorts of strange hours, but now you couldn’t sleep knowing he may very well be dying out there somewhere.

 

[ - ] 

Sorry for caring, tough guy.

2: 02 PM

 

[ Private ]

I didn’t say it was bad, muffin.

2: 03 PM

 

You smacked your lips together, unsure if you should be amused or not. This guy truly made you feel all sorts of things and it wasn’t always consisted.

 

[ - ] 

Are you taking it easy today?

2: 04 PM

 

[ Private ]

Until my boss calls, sure.

2: 06 PM

 

That didn’t sound that great, he just got stabbed? His boss must be horrible if he makes him work injured you thought to yourself, before typing your reply.

 

[ - ] 

did you kill the person who stabbed you?

2: 07 PM

 

Maybe it should have bothered you more, but the only part that truly bothered you was the part where you actually didn’t care, perhaps associating yourself with bad people for long had hardened you, or maybe it was just the way of life in Gotham.

 

[ Private ]

Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers too.

2: 08 PM

 

Ugh, perhaps he was right…

You sighed pulling back the blankets on the sofa and settled in, shifting onto your side.

 

[ - ]

Tell me something about you?

2: 09 PM

 

It was a bold question, no joke, you just simply wanted to know who this guy was. Who are you talking too? Who was he? If you knew something, just anything, maybe you could get past this whole awkward stage where you felt like you had to always be the one who broke the ice.

And yeah, you enjoyed talking to him. It wasn’t like you had anyone else at this point in time - Ed always seemed busy and well, you were pretty sure he just liked being left alone and that’s okay, but you wanted to talk to someone who actually liked talking to you.

Then there was Victor, you liked the idea of liking him, he seemed… interesting, but that was all one-sided and he made you feel like an idiot for ever thinking you could like him. Because at the end of the day, you knew you _could._

But he was always closed up, too intense, to business and no formality. It was like he didn’t know how to act around you, like you scared him not the other way around.   

 

[ Private ]

I like your rabbit pajamas.

2: 10 PM

You laughed to yourself, shaking your head with flushed cheeks, you already knew he did. However that wasn’t exactly what you asked, you wanted to know something about him… like, what was his favorite place in Gotham? Did he have a favorite movie? Food? Color?  Stupid trivial things that didn’t matter.

 

[ - ]

But, I already kneeew that!

2: 10 PM

 

[ Private ] 

I _like_ your body.

2: 11 PM

 

Okay...well…

 

Your heart skipped a beat for a mere second as your face burned up. What is he admitting it?  That’s something new to you. Biting your lip, you nuzzled your face into a fluffy cushion unable to sit still. Was this guy actually flirting?

You didn't know how to respond if he was. You didn’t even know who he was! How can you like someone if you don’t know who they are or what they look like, in the end - was that important?

No…you supposed it wasn’t important. As long as that feeling was mutual.

 

 

[ - ] 

I am shocked! _are flirting with me?_

2: 13 PM

 

Your hands get clammy while waiting for your reply, as you opened and closed your messenger application. Why did he take so long sometimes? What was he doing? Getting stabbed again? You sighed.

 

[ Private ]

Would I get to see more of you if I said yes?

2: 20 PM

 

You blinked. then again and sat there staring at the screen for a solid three minutes in disbelief.

 

[ - ] 

What.

2: 23 PM

 

[ Private ]

I am hurt…

2: 25 PM

 

[ Private ]

...I am dying

2: 25 PM

 

[ - ] 

Smooth, pal.

2: 27 PM

 

[ Private ]

:(

2: 30 PM

Was he trying to guilt you into this?!

 

Yes. yes, he was.

 

 [ - ]

...And what do I get out of this exchange sweet talker?

Casual compliments aren’t enough.

2: 34 PM

 

[ Private ]

Satisfaction.

And _compliments._

2: 35 PM

 

Mhm.

 

Not even close.

He can't expect something for nothing, and it wasn’t like you were about to give out goods for free, no matter how much he tried to butter you up, it’s not like you were going to instantly forget how many times he was a total ass to you.

 

 [ - ]

Nope, not enough.

I need something I can hold in my hands.

2: 40 PM

 

[ Private ]

;)

2: 41 PM

 

 [ - ]

Not like that you perv

Send me flowers.

_Exotic ones._

2: 43 PM

 

[ Private ]

Has anyone told you how needy you are?

2: 48 PM

 

You scoffed out loud like he could talk.

So you retaliated, using his own words.

 

 [ - ]

I am needy

_And demanding._

2: 50 PM

 

[ Private ]

I can tell.

2: 51 PM

 

Shaking your head, you turned your camera on and took a picture of your bare legs right down to your purple poke-o-dot socks, bending one higher than the other and curling your toes.

 

 [ - ]

_[ 1 Image: attached ]_

-

Silky smoooth

You have no idea what you’re missing ;D

2: 53 PM

 

Teasing this guy seemed the best course of action for some reason, maybe you’d make him a little bit more flustered, that and he had never seen bare legs before, little alone the shade of your skin that was previously hidden beneath all the layers of fabric from your last picture.

 

[ Private ]

Address. Now.

3: 13 PM

 

Oh.

 

Your heart jumped from the unexpected level of dominance.

But there was no way you were going to give this guy your address. Not yet anyway. Not to forget, you had no idea what this guy looked like, he could be anyone. Playing this safe was the best idea for now.

 

[ - ]

Nice try.

I’ll pick them up

3: 15 PM

 

_Checkmate._

 

[ Private ] 

FINE.

3: 15 PM

 

[ - ]

See, it wasn’t hard.

3: 16 PM

 

[ Private ]

Muffin, I think you’re forgetting something.

3: 17 PM

 

Nope, he wasn’t getting anything, not right now… not yet.

You were going to make him wait.

 

[ - ]

Not until I get thy flowers, Romeo.

So make sure its fucking express delivery <3

3: 19 PM

 

* * *

 

 

## 3 days later...

 

 

 

[ - ]

I got your flowers. -_-

You know when I said exotic…

4: 30 PM

 

[ Private ]

Too exotic?

4: 44 PM

 

[ - ] 

YOU SENT ME A BOUQUET OF WOLFSBANE.

Are YOU TRYING TO KILL ME?!!1@

4: 45 PM

 

[ Private ] 

If it gets you out of my head.

4: 46 PM

 

[ - ]

You’re multiple personalities are giving me whiplash.

I could have died, I googled it!

4: 48 PM

 

[ Private ]

Only if you eat it or touch them without gloves, muffin.

♥

4: 49 PM

 

[ - ]

Because… you know I just happen to walk around WEARING gloves!

4: 50 PM

 

[ Private ] 

You touched them, didn’t you.

4: 50 PM

 

[ - ]

No shit Sherlock.

I had to wash myself vigorously.

without you.

4: 53 PM

 

[ Private ]

D:

4: 53 PM

 

 

* * *

 

 

[ Private ]

Pictures?

10: 30 AM

 

[ - ]

No.

10: 31 AM

 

[ Private ] 

Are you still mad? :(

10 : 31 AM

 

[ - ]

Yes, but I am with family.

10: 43 AM

 

[ Private ]

You haven’t spoken about your father for a long time.

10 : 45 AM

 

[ - ] 

I know, I do it on purpose.

10: 55 AM

 

[ Private ] 

ok.

Later, boss called.

11: 21 AM

 

[ - ]

I hate your boss.

Just so you know.

11: 22 AM

 

* * *

 

 

[ - ]

I am going to bake you cookies.

9: 56 PM

 

[ Private ]

?

10: 23 PM

 

[ - ]

My father gave me a shit ton of eggs.

¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

10: 25 PM

 

 

* * *

 

[ Private ]

No offense muffin, but you have the worst sense of direction.

I got lost four times trying to find your cookie dead drop.

Finding criminals gone into hiding is easier.

1: 08 PM

 

[ - ] 

You’re the one who got lost.

Not me.

1: 10 PM

 

[ Private ]

ugh.

_[ 1 Image: attached ]_

Was the ‘Fuck you’ written in icing necessary?

1: 15 PM

 

[ - ]

Yes.

Also three of them are dosed with a near lethal amount of cyanide.

But only 3.

Bon Appetit <3

1: 23 PM

 

[ Private ]

*eye roll*

1: 30 PM

 

[ Private ]

Fuck it. I am risking it.

3: 24 PM

 

* * *

 

 

 [ Private ] 

_[ 3 Images: attached ]_

9: 01 PM

 

[ - ] 

Is that a Chiappa Rhino 60DS?!!

9: 09 PM

 

 [ Private ] 

You know your weapons, muffin.

surprising!

9: 09 PM

 

[ - ]

There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.

9: 10 PM

 

 [ Private ]

I already know you are as equally dangerous

as you are gorgeous.

9: 11 PM

 

[ - ]

Except you have no idea what I look like.

9: 12 PM

 

 [ Private ] 

It isn’t hard to guess.

9: 12 PM

 

 

 

`

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!?!!YESSSSSSS??!!?? 
> 
> I enjoyed writing this chapter a little too much. 
> 
> I was originally thinking Victor should send Turkish Halfeti roses, (Cause they are black @_@)  
> But... roses are far too romantic and maybe a little bit out of character at this point *SIGHS*  
> SO you got wolfsbane, which yes, is highly poisonous. X'D
> 
> **Also, The end messages aren't on the same day, that's why they are broken up into segments.**
> 
> I HOPE YOU ENJOYED.  
> And that the messages were cringey in all the right way <3


	18. Miss honey bunny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry in advance!! XD

 

 

“A’ight, alright, just tell me then, how in the hell did you let someone get close enough to actually stab you?!”

Victor cringed looking back at Wendell across the table for his snide remark. “I already told you. He was skinny and jumpy.” He sighed, rubbing the tender ache of his chest. He wasn’t about to admit now or anytime time soon that the real reason why was because he was distracted by a girl of a all things.

 

Wendell snickered before draining his glass. “You’re skinny and jumpy, but that’s never stopped you before -”

Victor’s tolerance was wearing flat at that point; it had been all day. “Shut up.” he rolled his eyes instantly. Zsasz had no intention to go out tonight. He had been busy all week dealing with everyone else's dirty work. Cobblepot always needed something, someone either followed or bagged, buried or burned. And Falcone’s enigmas themselves were becoming even more of a burden, even if did highly regard the man, his issues were wearing thin fast.

“What about that girl? Y'know…” Wardell rolled his hand like he had forgotten her name already. “The crazy one - the stuffed animals - ah, the one who jumped you.” He laughed high, slamming his cup down and wiping his grizzled chin.

 

“She didn’t jump me.” Victor sighed, unsure where exactly Wardell gets is shitty unresourceful information. “And I don’t know, I haven’t seen her in awhile - I got taken off the job —”

 

He even couldn’t accept it himself, not that he was complaining. Although, the whole occurrence at Sofia Falcone’s residence had its dire reputations. It wasn’t like he could lie to Falcone saying he hadn't seen her there, he had come face to face with her after all. Something he shouldn’t have done and yet he did - over and over. She was a problem, too much to handle and causing rifts between his work. She shouldn’t have hindered his mission, and yet she did - Falcone was right to settle it there and then.

 

Expect now Victor had discovered she was working for Cobblepot, making her even closer than he fancied, Zsasz had to be careful. Careful to stay away and blend back into the shadows where he should have lingered in the first place.

 

“Holy shit,” Wendell hit a high note in his tone. “And here I thought you were Falcone’s favorite pet. I guess we can all fall from our grace... even the mightiest of us.” He chuckled laying a hand on the ridge of Zsasz’s shoulder, sending a sharp flash of agony through the center of his ribs.

 

Victor clenched his jaw, swallowing his wince before turning his head to Wendell. “Take it off, or I’ll break it off.” He said, the sharpness of his breath dragging on his teeth.

“A’ight, no need to get feisty with me, _Buttercup.”_

 

His knuckles clenched in his palms.

 

“But seriously, Victor if you had seen Falcone’s girl the other week -mhm… you would have been regretting it if I got paid to tail that sweet ass—”

Wandell was almost begging for something bad to happy now, “I’ll tell you what Falcone told me, _‘If you go near her again I’ll have your head, boy.’_ -” Victor kinked his neck to the side. “So, go for it, she’s off the table.”

 

“Jeez, at least I’d die happy - even if it’s in a mound of stuffed animals gagging on my own blood.” Wendell scratched his chin, irritating Victor further.

Yet a sudden pleasant sound took his attention off the idiot next to him.

 

[ - ]

_[1 Image: attached]_

I bought it for you today <3

hehe.

9: 43 PM

 

The photograph, it was a white woolen beanie with floppy pink rabbit ears. Of course, it was, Victor huffed a heavy breath of air. Although, he could almost say he was amused by the sentiment. Yet, he’d much rather see her in it, then himself any time soon.

“What the fuck is that?” Victor shifted his eyes away to see Wendell peering over his shoulder and onto his screen, or more directly onto the picture she had taken and sent to Victor himself, ordering him to close the screen post-haste. Wandell's face was reeking of a burning satisfaction, almost appearing to have burst into tears of laughter. “Well, well, this explains a lot! Never - ever did I expect -”

 

Victor closed his eyes biting down on his tongue.

 

“I - Just never thought -” He started laughing. “Oh damn, please don’t tell me you’re not going -” There was no end to his gurgle of laughter. “Soft.”

 

Soft?

 

“I am - not, soft,” Victor said stubbornly, growling under his breath.

 Wendell murmured smacking his lips together with an unexpected pop. “Then explain, little miss Honey bunny on the other end, mhm?”

 

Zsasz acknowledged he couldn’t, he didn’t even know how to rationalize it to himself, little alone to someone else, but then again why did he have to justify it to anyone regardless, it was none of his fucking business what he did in his own damn time.

Victor narrowed his eyes, not uttering a word.

 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. First Falcone - now this? I ought to set you up an intervention or something, maybe a therapist, _Dr. Phil?”_

“I don’t need help.”

 

“Mhm, that’s exactly something someone who needs help would say.” Wendell grinned. “The first step is admitting it.”

“I admit I want to punch you in the face.” Victor snapped.

 

Wendell swayed his head and pinched his fingers an inch apart. “So close.” He smiled. “Who is your unlucky girl?”

“She’s not _my_ girl.” Victor rolled his eyes.

 

A cocked eyebrow lifted his way. “Well, that’s just sad - I’ll drink for the both of _us_.” Wendell raised is hand for another round of drinks.

 

 [ Private ]

No, thanks.

10: 01 PM

 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Wendell snapped his sites back at Zsasz, “You’re nuts, man - you just can’t help yourself. At least go be with your weird chick instead of texting her like a 12 year old school girl - it’s sad… I feel depressed just looking at you.”

“I am working up to it.”

 

“What?!”

Victor sighed, “I haven’t met her yet.”

 

For once Wendell had nothing to say expect the broken expression upon his mug that was louder than any words he could manage to speak.

 

[ - ]

_[1 Image: Attached]_

Pity

These come with it.

10: 05 PM

 

“Well, don’t mind me -” Wendell, turned up his nose at Zsasz with a foul look of disapproval.  

Victor opened the image.

 

Oh.

“Y—you know… what I said before. ha... “ Wendell swallowed.

 

His phone slowly closed within his hand, clenching it tightly in his fist.

“You didn’t see anything.” Zsasz turned to his friend beside him. “Understood?”

 

“Oh, I saw it.” Wendell  snapped his teeth together. “Pink and _fluffy.”_

Victor closed his eyes and shuffled in his seat, feeling suddenly hot, heavy and extremely uncomfortable. “She’s not normally that naughty.”

 

“Buddy, that shit doesn’t happen overnight.” he gulped making a sound, “I wanna meet this little miss honey bunny.”

 _Snap out of it, snap out of it, snap out of it, snap out of it._ Nope, nothing was working. Nothing. It was still there, raw in his mind. All of it, every inch of pink fabric that clenched to her waist, the fluff. It was all there and everything that wasn’t.

 

The handcuffs? _Why. why. Why. why. Why?!_

_Shit._

 

“Victor. Are you okay…”

Zsasz clenched his jaw and nodded his head, eyes closed.

 

Damn her, and her stupid rabbit fetish that was driving him fucking _crazy._

“Victor, you know I’ll always have your back, but your silent twitching right now is even making me feel _uncomfortable.”_

 

His dark eyes snap open. “I wasn’t - twitching.”

“Then go find her and stop being freakin' pussy.”

 

If only he knew how. He had no leads - no name, no house, just semi-naked pictures in a fucking pink bunny suit. What was he supposed to do with that?

“How?”

 

“Are you seriously asking me?” Wendell blinked. “Victor _freaking_ Zsasz is asking me how to track someone?!”

“Did I stutter?!”

 

“Nope. I was just relishing this moment while it lasted.” He cracked a grin. “Nuh, I have no fucking idea…” He laughed stupidly.

“Look, go home Zsasz, burn off some that energy and have a shower. _A really cold shower.”_

 

Good idea.

 

* * *

 

 

You didn’t shift an inch from the soft warm security of your bed. But nonetheless, he had you on the edge of your toes. Did he like the picture? He hadn’t said so if he did. Why was he taking so long, it had almost been an hour and a bit since you last heard from him. And so your nerves were starting to sink in slowly, minute by minute until you were finally beginning to regret your bold move.

 

[ - ]

Look…

I am sorry if it was too much.

10: 45 PM

 

Was it though? Surely he couldn’t be offended a bit of pink fabric, fishnets and fluffy handcuffs for god sake. You signed out loud turning over, thinking slowly back to where everything went wrong - in the end, you only did it because he kept nagging consistently. But was it what he wanted? Was it still not enough?

 

  [ - ]

Just so you know

I don’t actually wear that much pink in public…

If that’s what you are worried about

10: 50 PM

 

[ - ]

I just thought -

I don’t know what I was thinking

11: 01 PM

 

This was bullshit, what the fuck was he doing? You rolled your eyes tapping your phone, refreshing the screen until finally - finally you saw the little ‘...’ pop up and with that, your heart almost jumped along with each movement it made.

 

 [ Private ]

sorry

I was busy...

11: 13 PM

 

Really? Doing what, surely it could have waited if he was already messaging you in the first place. Surely he had some time to tell you that before you sent the picture, so he didn’t leave you hanging with your nerves pooling through your body - waiting.

 

[ - ]

Doing what?

Jerking off or just being a jerk in general?

11: 13 PM

 

You wrote the message while pressing the keys harder than usual.

 

 [ Private ]

Both ♥

11: 13 PM

 

Pfft, you purse your lips trying hard not furrow your brows at the message. Well, at least that’s - something. But he was still a jerk. No matter what he fucking said.

 

[ - ]

Well, don’t get used to it.

Like ever.

11: 14 PM

 

 [ Private ]

_[1 Image: Attached]_

No need. I saved it.

It’s my new wallpaper ;)

11: 15 PM

 

You sighed and rolled your eyes at the same time.

 

[ - ]

Creep.

11: 16 PM

 

 [ Private ]

Jeepers creepers

I got to see your _peepers..._

11: 17 PM

 

[ - ]

You did not!!!

Are you drunk?! :/

11: 18 PM

 

 [ Private ]

Tipsy

11: 19 PM

 

[ - ]

Great, you were already a danger to society before

11: 19 PM

 

 [ Private ]

That’s the nicest thing you have ever said to me.

11: 20 PM

 

[ - ]

I think you should go to sleep.

11: 21 PM

 

 [ Private ]

_[1 Image: Attached]_

Care to join?

11: 23 PM

 

[ - ]

Your bedroom is far too clean!!

You either live with your mother or have horrific OCD.

I can’t decide which is worse! LOL

11: 24 PM

 

 [ Private ]

Shut up, before I get out the duct tape.

11: 24 PM

 

[ - ]

Oh, baby get out the ajax. talk clean to me <3

11: 23 PM

 

 [ Private ]

-_-

11: 23 PM

 

* * *

 

 [ Private ]

About last night.

9: 38 AM

 

[ - ]

Oh look

Count Cockblockular has awoken.

9: 45 AM

 

 [ Private ]

I am trying to be sincere…

And from what I remember, you blocked me not the other way around.

9: 46 AM

 

[ - ]

Send me nudes and I’ll forgive you.

9: 47 AM

 

 [ Private ]

No.

9: 48 AM

 

[ - ]

fridget bitch.

9: 50 AM

 

* * *

 

 

 [ Private ]

What are you doing?

7: 35 PM

 

[ - ]

Getting ready for work.

7: 36 PM

 

[ Private ]

Where do you work?

7: 36 PM

 

[ - ]

The first corner on Maple Street...

7: 37 PM

 

[ Private ]

That would explain the outfit.

7: 38 PM

 

[ - ]

Le premier de beaucoup, monsieur <3

7: 39 PM

 

[ Private ]

Méchante fille ;)

7: 40 PM

 

[ - ]

D:

7: 41 PM

 

* * *

 

 

[ Private ]

_[2 Image: Attached]_

New coat ;)

2: 52 PM

 

[ - ]

Niice! Where did you get it?

_Hot Topic?!!_

HAHAHAHAHA!!1@!!

3: 03 PM

 

[ Private ]

**…**

3:04 PM

 

* * *

 

 

[ - ]

we should get matching tattoos

2: 04 AM

 

[ Private ]

This is what keeps you up at night?!

2: 10 AM

 

[ - ]

that and your six inches of serrated steel

I bet it goooooes in deeeeeeeeep and pulls out _haaaaaaaard._

2: 10 AM

 

[ Private ]

That’s one vivid way of putting it.

2: 11 AM

 

[ - ]

Omfg stop being so - _you._

You’d love it.

2: 12 AM

 

[ Private ]

Perhaps.

2: 13 AM

 

[ - ]

that is if your old ass isn’t a moaner

and ruins it for the both of us...lol

Grrr, Hmph.. ahh...

_“Is that the zombie apocalypse I hear?”_

2: 14 AM

 

[ Private ]

Sometimes I wish you were older.

2: 15 AM

 

* * *

 

 

[ Private ]

Are we still fighting? I have lost track.  

4: 30 PM

 

[ - ]

Yes, I am still fairly pissed off

4: 33 PM

 

[ Private ]

It’s been 4 days.

4: 45 PM

 

[ - ]

And…

4: 46 PM

 

[ Private ]

I don’t know what to do

4: 47 PM

 

[ - ]

_http://www.wikihow.com/how-to-stop-being-a-cunt_

5: 10 PM

 

 

 

 

 

` 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHAHAHA XD YIKES.
> 
> So I was like after this. "I should totally write sexts."  
> though my common sense was like. "...How? you have the sexuality of a dead cave troll."  
> Whilst my humour be like. "Just say the word 'cock' a lot and make it as large as your self doubt, so it's really hard to swallow."  
> "Plus, for the first time ever you'll have an excuse for saying, 'butter my buns.'—" 
> 
> I am going to die. This fic is going to be the end of me...
> 
>  
> 
> All while Victor is handling naughty pictures like::  
> 


	19. Worst friend ever

 

[ - ]  
Riddles.  
8: 12 AM

  
[ - ]  
Ed.  
8: 12 AM

[ - ]  
Eddie.  
8: 12 AM

  
[ - ]  
Edward.  
8: 13 AM

  
[ - ]  
Edward the disco vampire slayer.  
*Swish*  
8: 15 AM

  
[ ? ]  
What?  
8: 16 AM

  
[ - ]  
Knock, knock.  
8: 16 AM

  
[ ? ]  
No.  
8: 16 AM

[ - ]  
_*Who’s there._  
…  
You know.  
8: 17 AM

[ ? ]  
Stop.  
8: 17 AM

[ - ]  
_*You know who?_  
...  
Avada kedavra!!!!  
8: 18 AM

[ ? ]  
??????  
8: 23 AM

[ - ]  
Me 1 - The Fiddler 0.  
8: 34 AM

[ ? ]  
Please, don’t call me that.  
8: 25 AM

[ - ]  
<3  
8: 36 AM

* * *

 

  
[ Unknown ]  
Hey.  
6: 34 PM

[ - ]  
Who’s dis?  
6: 36 PM

[ Unknown ]  
Sofia Falcone :)  
6: 36 PM

[ - ]  
Who?  
6: 36 PM

[ Unknown ]  
Sofia?  
6: 37 PM

[ - ]  
What?  
6: 37 PM

[ Unknown ]  
Sofia Falcone!  
6: 38 PM

  
[ - ]  
I think you were given the wrong number.  
6: 38 PM

[ Unknown ]  
I was almost positive...  
6: 40 PM

[ - ]  
This is Bob from customer services.  
6: 42 PM

  
[ Unknown ]  
:/  
6: 42 PM

[ - ]  
How may I help you?  
6: 44 PM

[ Unknown ]  
Put my sister on.  
6: 45 PM

[ - ]  
Who?!  
6: 50 PM

[ Unknown ]  
OMG.  
6: 55 PM

[ - ]  
HAHAHA.  
6: 55 PM

[ Unknown ]  
I know it’s you. I asked dad..  
7: 12 PM

[ - ]  
Which daddy? *wink*  
7: 12 PM

[ Unknown ]  
Pardon? Our father.  
I need to ask you something. It’s important.  
7: 12 PM

[ - ]  
All magic comes with a price dearie.  
7: 14 PM

  
[ Unknown ]  
Ugh. It’s about Oswald.  
7: 15 PM

[ - ]  
WHO?! xDDD  
7: 16 PM

[ Unknown ]  
I am telling daddy.  
7: 17 PM

[ - ]  
OK, say hi to Jim for me  
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  
7: 18 PM

* * *

 

[ FlappyBird ]  
You’re almost late for your shift.  
7: 35 PM

[ - ]  
_A wizard is never late, nor is he early,_  
_he arrives precisely when he means to. ~ Gandalf._  
7: 36 PM

 

* * *

 

_11: 23 PM_

Tick, tick, tick… sometimes it would have been easier if you didn’t wear a watch to work, then maybe just maybe the shift could slowly drift into the back of mind, where other thoughts could come to life and take you somewhere else, far, far away.

“Hey, legs.” A bulky man shouts towards you and faces glances your vision, you know somewhere deep down you had seen this man before, just not from here. “Hey, haven’t I seen you before - I could have sworn you had two eyes back then, sailor boy.” You laugh at the patch, grabbing an empty cup.

“Oh, you definitely have.” He smiled, ordering his drink and slamming his cash onto the bench. “Wendell - though I go by more colorful monica these days -” You stop the man by swaying your head watching him flash his sparkly white teeth. “I am sure whatever it is, it very dangerous not to mention outrageous -” Or incredibly stupid most likely you repeat silently deep within your own mind.

“Smart and beautiful, what a lethal combination.” He winked making you feel physically ill. “One eye and bad depth perception.” You grinned back, sliding glass towards back towards the man with a steadily splash before he could grab it. “Equally as lethal.”

“Ha!” He laughed to your surprise. “I knew the rumors about you were true.”

Your body froze halting were you stood. “What rumors?!”

“Oh, you know how it is babe…” Wendell lowered a brow.

No, you had no idea what he meant. It could have been a thousand things by now. Something to do with Ed, Barbara - breaking into Sofia’s house, the guy you have been talking too, being the new daughter of the ex-king of Gotham and notorious gang leader (but only a handful of people knew that - or so you assumed.) You couldn’t just choose one randomly for fuck sake.

“No - I don’t know.” Your face cracked towards the man. “Please go on, enlighten me.”

Wendell takes a swing of his glass before taking a large breath. “I’ll give ya a hint, starts with a ‘V’ and ends with a -” He popped his fingers in the form of a gun.

Great.

Rolling your eyes, you huff breathing out of your mouth. “What about Mr. Zsasz?”

“Well, he himself didn’t exactly clarify. However, the word is only the street you left the poor guy in all sorts of confusion. Speaking of which, would you like to ah… explain?”

Seriously, could this get any worse? “So I am guessing you’re one of his friends, right?” He curled his lip while he drank. “And he doesn’t talk about me?”

Wendell groaned. “A little sugar, only when he’s on a caffeine rush, then you can’t get the skinny fucker to shut up -” He shrugged his shoulders. “Why do you ask?” He said suggestively.

“I am not - I mean… I didn’t -” You take a breath of much needed air.

“Don’t mind me asking, but were you two ever a - thing?”

That’s what he thought? Obviously, he hasn't received the memo off Victor then. “Oh yeah,” you suck in your breath, nodding your head. “We were totally doing it - blood sacrificial orgies under the full moon and everything.”

Wendell choked on his drink, coughing hard. “What?!!”

“I was kidding.” This guy was an idiot.

He raised two eyebrows and looked down at his cup. “Jeez...girl, no wonder he moved on - you’re hard to handle!”

“What??!” Now you were sounding like the fucking idiot. Did Victor move on? From what - to who? Did he have a girlfriend this whole time? Seriously? He could have said something or not lead you on! But… it explained a lot - his distance - his attitude - why he didn’t want…

Ugh… how could you have been so naive?

So stupid…

So - _you._

You moved to the side, hiding your face. “He’s got a girl, huh?”

“Yeah babes, I’ll have you know she’s a nut - a crazy kinky fucking _hot_ nut - but a nut nonetheless.”

Well, that helped.

Suddenly, Wendell was laughing for no reason. “You should have seen the way he was blushing!”

Your stomach turned, twisting into a painful heap. “Thanks - seriously, you can stop now.” But he just kept going.

“Oh don’t be like that girl - you lucked out, this kind of business isn’t the romantic sort - give it 2 weeks tops, he’ll bang her and get bored in no time… plus it didn’t help he had the job on ya, or whatever the hell he keeps going on about, ‘don’t go near her...blah blah blah…”

It was hard not to scrunch your face up. “What, what job - what the fuck are you talking about?”

He blinked three times, maybe getting a little over tipsy on his scotch. “You know girl, the following shit. Watch and observe and be a good little boy scout.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You didn’t want to believe it, but it was all far too easy too. “He was following me, is that what you are saying - on purpose?!”

“Whaat?” His face dropped slurring his words. “No - no - no. Don’t be so seriooous, it’s just a job.”

“From who?” Your fist tightened, rage building up, blood curdling in your veins. “Who gave the freaking contract?”

“Birdman?...no - ah, what’s his face... Phhh…” he sounded out, clenching his head in his hands.

“Falcone?”

“Yeah… that _bitch.”_ He laughed.

  
~

 

In times like this, it was hard not break nor let the past year of troubles come spilling back at once. What did it take for you to finally lose it? Losing your mother, your best friend last year was enough of a kick in the stomach. Without her, even with others in your life, you were still utterly alone. You tried to fill that empty void with a man who wanted to be your father, and some part of you wanted it as well, so maybe everything would feel the way it used too.

But, it was all childhood fantasies to think that everything could go back to the way it used too.

Lifting your chin you held back the tears, you hated feeling like this - weak, vulnerable, this wasn’t you, not the person that ever wanted to be.

“Dear.” Oswald's voice had you fluttering your eyes open.

You pull yourself together, sniffing in deep and running a finger under your right eye. “Sorry, Mr. Cobblepot, rough day,” you say, smiling weakly.

He takes a seat next to you, for a brief moment nothing is said, you just simply sit side by side. “Would you like to talk about it, dear?”

No - you weren’t a _‘talk about it’_ kind of person, but he was kind to ask.

“I’ll be alright,” You look into the violent green of eyes _. “I’ll manage.”_

Oswald dips his head, understanding as he clasps his hands together in his lap. “Of course. If you change your mind - I’m always around.” He cocks a smile. “I am a good listener.”

It sounded like he needed it more than you. “That’s what I am scared of Sir, you won’t forget all my pathetic problems.” You manage a light chuckle and he returns one.

“I better get going, it’s getting late - I need -” You sigh, you need to go see Falcone - talk to him, get is side before you can actually judge the man’s actions. “I need to go - home.”

Oswald nods. “Do you need a lift? it’s raining.”

Normally you would have said yes, but you didn’t want him to know where you were going. “Thank you, boss, but I have an umbrella.”

 

~

  
_Ding dong..._

It’s 12: 30 at night and you’re standing in the pouring rain outside Falcone’s estate, and it cost $40 just for the taxi ride alone. You ring the doorbell again only to hear soft footsteps on the other side, pitter-pattering closer with every moment passing. Metal clunks, it sounds like a lock being pulled from its hinges. A face of a woman greets you in the parting warm light that seeps from the inside.

“Miss Falcone?” An older woman dressed as a maid, says much to your dismay.

“Hey-” You shiver, cold and wet from being out in the rain. “Is my… father around, I need a word - I know it’s late, but it’s important.”

She steps back and lets you in, peeling the wet coat from your shoulders. It’s warmer far warmer in here.

The lady leads you through the house as you follow from behind. “Mr. Falcone is in his office still, I’ll go and get you something dry to wear - will you be staying the night?”

“Yeah, thanks.” you nod not having much choice considering that was your last $40 to till you get paid in a couple days.

The maid leaves and you stand at his door heaving for air, knocking before you enter. “D-” You breath, sighing a little uncomfortable. “Dad…”

“Sweetheart, is that you?” You hear from the other end. His voice sounds hoarse. “Come in.”

Sprawled out papers cover his desk, but a tired smile greats you on the other end nonetheless. “I see insomnia runs deeper in our blood then I assumed.”

He had no idea. “Mum had it too.” you try to smile, pulling out a seat.

“That she did.” he agrees faintly. “What troubles you, child?”

How were you supposed to answer that? Were there right words, if so you didn’t know how to phrase it or how to articulate your emotions in the right expression.

So you cut right to the point but used a softness to your voice. “I know...about Zsasz, dad.”

His face changes. “Who told you?”

And that’s all that people really cared about in this city, you shouldn’t have been surprised.

“Someone at work.”

 _“Cobblepot?”_ He questions lightly.

“No, just a drunk - didn’t get his name.” You lie shrugging.

Falcone sighs pinching his brow with his finger and thumb. “He was only supposed to watch you at work, sweetheart. Ever since Mario…” He didn’t need to go on, explain, at the mention of his name alone you understood - he was a worried parent, paranoid, being an overprotective father. You didn’t forgive him for doing this without you knowing - but you did understand.

“Forgive an old tired fool, dear…” He wasn’t asking, he was simply affirming he felt bad.

In the end, you didn’t so much hold a grudge on him - even if his intentions were off, the meaning behind the reason was enough to tolerate the idea. It was Victor’s fault for stepping his boundaries. Everything he did had nothing to do with anything Falcone wanted, it was simply Victor being a fucking dick as per-usual.

“On a lighter note, sweetheart. I heard you have been giving a Sofia a hard time -” He cracked half a smile. “She called you ah… troll, I believe - would you like to explain why your sister is comparing you to mythological creatures?” Your father raises a brow.

You could have laughed if you didn’t hold yourself together. “I have no idea, I have always considered myself more of a basilisk.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

`

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna post this tomorrow but - pfft. I'll just spam write until I die of writers block <3
> 
> Thank you again to everyone who reads/comments/etc :D
> 
> Side note. 
> 
> I am not sure if Sofia is the older sister or the younger one. I guess it sort of demands on how old you want the main girl to be - though from my perspective I'd guess she would be the younger or one or two years apart from Sofia.  
> I view her as to being anywhere from (21 - 25) myself - so she can also possibly be like 14 years younger than Victor.  
> I LOVE. X'D


	20. Sisters

 

 

Was there anything truly more pleasing than a home cooked family breakfast, on an early Saturday morning? Yes, because being stabbed in the throat multiple times would have been less painful than Sofia’s cold stone like stares from across the table.

“Who wants scrambled eggs?” Your father asks as your stomach twists.

Sofia leaps from her seat trying to grab the man from his spot. “Dad…” She snaps where she stands “Please, no more eggs - you sit, I’ll make something - just rest.”

Thank goodness, you silently cheer in your head.

At this point you’re pretty sure if Sofia Falcone even glimpses another egg, she’s either going to have your father murdered by a swarm of masked assassins, or going to throw his ass in an old folks home before he can say ‘ capiche.’

“Sweetheart, you should go help your sister.” Your father suggests, breaking your chain of thought while opening the latest edition of the Gotham Gazette.

Because that’s exactly what you want to do. However, you refrain from arguing with the man, because something tells you it wouldn’t end well anyway...

“Ah, sure - why not.” you slowly stand.

 

 

Sofia was in the kitchen, kettle on the stove, cutting slices of bread with a large cutting knife that was giving you the heebie-jeebies just looking at it. “Hey, needa hand?” That would have been funny if she was guy….and not your sibling… okay, maybe not at all, you swallow nervously.

“Not really.” She heaves her shoulders, moving over to place the bread into the toaster. “You can make dad a cup of tea if you want, black with no sugar.”

“Alright.” you accept the offer, it’s better than standing around doing nothing.

You start making it, grabbing a fresh mug and the kettle. “About yesterday - sorry.” you grind your teeth, obviously it was it was one-sided humor taken a little too far.

Sofia shrugs again with her back turned to you. “It’s fine.”

Okay… awkward situations were never your forte or strong suit for dealing with. “So you wanted to know something about Oswald? I mean I know the guy, but not enough for it to be a reliable source.”

Plus, you liked the guy and you wouldn’t anyway - but you kept that to yourself.  

“You’re getting the wrong idea, it wasn’t like that.” Sofia tries to admit, though you see right past those sweet dimples pressed into her cheeks.

“So -fia.” You drag out her name. “I don’t always listen to street rumors but when I do, they involve _pie_ and _cannibalism_.”  You sway your head with a shake of your loose hair.

Yeah, you had heard about the latest antics of the one and only Professor Pyg. But never would you have imagined this girl would have taken the next step, hiring someone to brutally murder a bunch of homeless people and turned them into pies; even if that was the most metal thing you have ever heard of.

“It wasn’t my proudest moment.” Her face suddenly shifts into more of a snide look, but she didn’t deny it either.

Well, well. Look who’s finally showing their true colors you laugh a little from within “You know, sis, I think we have something in common after all.” You shrug, curling your lip.

“And what would that be?” She raises a brow. “It’s obviously not our taste in fashion, she remarks about your red tartan skirt and black laddered stockings.

 

“I like Sweeney Todd too.”  

 

Sofia rolled her eyes as her cheeks flush to a shade light shade of pink.

She still was laughing, even if it was just on the inside.

Whelp, you couldn’t dislike her forever, so in the heat of the moment, you sang along with a smile wide on your face.

 

_“Seems an awful waste..._

_I mean, with the price of meat_

_What it is,_

_When you get it,_

_If you get it…”_

 

Sofia finally giggled. _“Ah!”_ She breathed.

 

 _“Good, you got it!”_ you winked.

 

~

 

 

“Who was your mother, if you don’t mind me asking?” Sofia asked as you bit into a slice of toast. You knew it would come up sooner or later, considering the girl didn’t even know you existed till a couple weeks back, little alone knew she had a sister she never wanted.

Staring down at your plate, you take a breath slowly gazing towards your sister and your newly found father. “My mother? Oh, well uhm - she was a baker here in Gotham.” You pause trying to think. “You know those giant cakes people jump out of for surprise parties?”

 

“Yeah?” Sofia confirms swiftly nodding her head.

 

“Well, she used to make those, but instead of putting a person in there, it was high powered automatic artillery.” You take another bite of toast. “Nobody ever checks the catering.”

Her face drops along with her jaw. “Please tell me you’re joking.” then she looks to her father. “Is she joking?”

Falcone shrugs his shoulders. “What can I say, she was good at it.”

_That she was._

Sofia lowered her brow into her hand, with a loud exaggerated sigh.

Your father coughs awkwardly towards Sofia, before looking back at you. “Did you go to school here in Gotham?” He finally asks oddly enough.

You can bet Sofia didn’t. “Ah, yeah. For a time I went to Anders Preparatory Academy, on a scholarship.”

 

God, was there anything worse than talking high school?!

“For a time?” He picks at your words.

 Oh dear. “I got expelled.”

 

Even after all these years, he gave you a dad look that chilled you straight down to your bones.

“Why?”

 

You swallow nervously. “Er, there was a school charity bake sale and well…”

 

He lifts a brow. “I think that’s enough out of you young lady.”

Sofia full blow laughs till her face turns a bright shade of pink. “No wonder you dress like a crackhead.” She covers her mouth with her hand.

 

_Oh, fucking hell…._

“Sofia!” Your father curses at her, yet it doesn’t stop of the flow of unexpected giggles.

“I’ll have you know it’s called grunge and it was super in within the 90’s.” You roll your eyes at the brunette gigglepot in front of you.

 

Sofia snorts. “It should have stayed in the 90’s.”

You kick her leg under the table as winces out of her giggles. “Ouch, she just kicked me!”

 

“Preppy girl!” You hiss back.

Your father slams his palm on the table. “Enough out the both of you!” He scans the room. “Can’t we have one meal together without starting a gang war? Please…” He sighs.

“Sorry, dad.” Sofia dips her head, though you hear the doubt in her voice.

 

Moments are filled with silence, seconds, minutes time seemed to stop altogether until boredom strikes and you finally indulge yourself enough to turn your phone back on and leave on the table next to your plate.

Until unfamiliar sound startled you from the white noise around you.

It was vibrating against the wood, over and over again - it just kept going, one horrid buzz after another till everyone in the room was looking at you with their god-awful stares of curiosity.

 

Shit.

 

 **[ ? ]**  - 2 unread messages.

 **[ FlappyBird ]** \- 1 unread message - 2 miss calls - 1 voice message.

 **[ Barbie Arkham Edition ]** 3 unread messages - 2 miss calls.

 **[ Private ]** 7 unread messages.

Oh, hell.

 

[ Messages ]

 **[Read]** [Delete]

 

 

 

3: 34 AM ]  \\\ ? ] - Do you by any chance have any medical training? 

3: 36 AM ]  // ? ] - Never mind.

 

12: 24  AM ] \\\ FlappyBird ] - Did you get home safely, dear?

 

10: 45 PM ] \\\ Barbie Arkham Edition ] Hey, I've got some work if your interested, it’ll be fun  :P

10: 46 PM ] // Barbie Arkham Edition ] Actually, you don’t have a choice, I already picked you out a dress.

10: 46 PM ] \\\ Barbie Arkham Edition ] And yes, you will wear it. No arguing.

 

12: 01 PM ] \\\ Private ] Sorry muffin, been out of town for a while. Business.

12: 01 PM ] // Private ] I am guessing you got up to all sorts of trouble while I was gone.

 

12: 32 PM ] \\\ Private ] Hopefully not too much, though.

12: 35 PM ] // Private ] Trouble maker.

 

8: 23 AM ] \\\ Private ] Good morning.

9: 15 AM ] // Private ] So, I have been thinking.

 

9: 30 AM ] \\\ Private ] Do you want to meet up or do I have to hunt you down?

 

 

 

 

You look up from your phone and see your father looking at you. “Is everything okay sweetheart?”

 

Not answering instantly, you nod your head. “...Yeah, it’s just from work and my friend Edward,” you say refusing to say anyone else's names.

 

“Edward, like Edward Nygma?” Sofia asks.

“Yeah, that’s the one.” You answer.

 

[ - ]

Shame on you

if you ever thought I was ever going to make this easy.

9: 40 AM

 

[ Private ]

Mission accepted.

9: 40 AM

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

`

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I referenced Sweeney Todd.
> 
> Because what is more beautiful then Johnny Depp butchering a bunch of Death Eaters? NOTHING. <3


	21. BFF

 

 

“Barbara, c’mon… please give it back, I am trying to work here.”

It was only a little after ten o'clock and Barbara was already provoking you at work and already digging through your purse on the side of the counter. It wasn’t like she was a regular patron, but she often came to see Oswald here and there, not for business, mostly to make snide comments, ridicule something, talk about his hair then leave. However, since your last adventure with her, she often stopped at the bar on the way out, ordering an expensive glass of red wine before talking about anything that could get you in trouble, with Oswald, your father _(who she still didn’t know about)_ or the law in general.

“Last time you were talking about some guy that you didn’t know. Don’t you want to find out? I could help you.” She questions sipping on her glass.

Of course, you wanted to know but at the same time, you didn’t exactly want to involve Barbara Kean into your own problems, especially considering it might be embarrassing as hell. That and the weird pictures on there.

“I am capable of figuring this out on my own terms, Barbara.” You huff annoyed at the blonde.

Yet that doesn’t stop the woman from giving you a face for disapproval. “It’s been weeks, just admit your detective skills are crap.”

Maybe, but you weren’t exactly trying either.

“And what makes you think your detective skills are so superb?” You ask back, folding your arms together watching her make a similar gesture on the side.  
  
She dips her chin, placing her glass on the bench. “I was engaged to one… _bitch._ ” Barbara rolled it off her tongue with a smug look.

“Ahem, excuse me.” You heard a sound coming from behind, the same raspy forced cough that belonged to the owner of the establishment and also your boss.

“Ozzie!” Barbara turned on her seat, buoyancy ringing high in her tones as if she was seeing a friend she had longed to see; though you knew that was far from the case. “Fancy seeing you here! mhm.”

“Likewise.” Oswald turned his head showing a grimace expecting something unpleasant, or most likely he was.

“Oh, don’t be like that Ozzie.” She clicked her tongue on the roof her mouth. “We have been through so much together, it’s high time we get matching friendship bracelets.” Her fingers hook around his tie pulling him and straightening his immaculate matte black and deep plum tailed suit.

You interrupted. “Can I have one too?”

Barbara swayed her face back to you wearing a radiant grin that matched her dazzling sapphire dress, “Of course...” She points to herself, “B” then to you, “F” and back to Oswald, “F.”

“Bisexual, Fuck, Feast?” You puzzle cluelessly. “Why do I have to be the _‘Fuck’?”_ That didn’t sound right...

Barbara huffed rolling her eyes, failing to exhale her air. “No. but I like that better.”

Oswald snaps his hands together, forcing your attention onto him and the sour look he wore that spoiled the ten seconds of glee. “Enough, nobody is getting bracelets - understood?”

“Ozzie, stop trying to sink our ship.”

Oswald’s face blew hot with fury. “Pardon me, Ms. Kean I was under the impression you were leaving or should I have someone escort you out?”

“Someone has their panties in a twist.”

Normally this is how things went on around here, there wasn’t day that went by without someone acting like a complete idiot, half the time that was either you doing something horrifically embarrassing by accident or having to deal with these two temper tantrums at each other; but at least it was neither boring nor dull.

…“Did someone just say panties?”

Wendell.

_Ugh._

Again, where do these people keep popping up? You stepped back from the counter just in case some gets glassed with a wine bottle, it wouldn’t be the first time it has happened.  
The level of disgust that was on Barbara’s expression was next level.

“Whoever you think you are - no.”

Wendell shakes it off laughing, his now smug face overwhelming pretty much everything else in the room, along with his rich smell of leather and something else you can’t quite place and neither do you want to know, “Headhunter - Wendell.” He looks to you. “ayy, gorgeous.”

You could feel it already that this wasn’t going to end well for him.

Barbara lifts a brow stepping down from her chair. “What do you want?”

“Oh you know, I was just popping in to see old birdie, but now that I see two lovely ladies I might have -”

A loud tapping was coming from behind him.

“He is behind me isn’t he.”

Oswald was tapping his fancy black and white dress shoes on the ground, red-faced and nostrils flared.

“Oh, shit boss… Er…ugh... I didn’t see you there.” Wendell stumbled over his own sentences, making more sounds than using proper vocabulary.

“Oswald, can I shoot him?” Barbara hissed over the top.

Oswald casually shrugs the ends of his shoulders. At this point, he doesn’t seem to care in slightest, and the usually more than adequate man starts to show the side of him that got him this far up to where he is was today; the King of Gotham. “Be my guest, but do it outside.”

“Whoah~!” Wendell threw his hands up showing his palms. “I am here on business Mr. Penguin...Sir... I have the information you requested.”

After that, the word ‘rain-check’ was thrown around and sigh from Barbara who was still left sitting at the bar in front of you. You wondered what information he was talking about, but maybe it was better not knowing the deals of underworld crimes, however intriguing it was.

Oswald walked off with Wendell behind him, you watched on till you could no longer see the pair off them, Barbara didn’t move an inch except for her face that was now glued back onto your bag and back into her curiosity you were hoping she had long forgotten in the heat of the moment.

“So what were we saying before we got interrupted” She paused. - “What were we talking about?”

“Er.” It escaped your mind for a moment. “Your ex? He was a detective?”

“Right.” She grabs your phone making your heart jump from your chest.

“Hey, I didn’t give you permission!” You protested loud and clear.

  
“I don’t remember asking either.” She winks, flicking it open. “Cute case by the way,” She rolls her eyes at the purple sparkles.

You block it out and try to wander away all your embarrassment was going straight to your head, clouding everything else out. Why was this so hard? Why did you have to be so shy all of a sudden, he was the one who came onto you - you were just the one who kept playing him on and blocking his every move...because, that seemed like the best idea, he was a stranger after all… even…

You breathed out.

Even if he was a charmer and you had fun talking to him.

When Barbara starts laughing everything feels suddenly too real, too much, if only you could drink on the job. You missed Ed at least this didn’t happen with Edward at your old job, his constant riddles were nothing compared to this invasion of privacy.

“He -” She chuckles biting her lower lip. “He calls you Muffin? That’s so cute!”

He was a lot of things your mysterious man, but you wouldn’t go as far as saying he was cute.

“He tried to kill me by sending me a bouquet of wolfsbane, I didn’t even know what to do with it; I mean… it’s not like I could happily place it in my house!”

She rolls her eyes back up at you, as usual, curling glossy lips. “You know the saying, if a boy picks on you he likes you, if he tries to kill you, he must really love— ”

You didn’t let her finish. “— I don’t think so.”

“He sent you flowers.”

“Deadly ones, Barbara!” you breath. “Deadly.”

She doesn’t reply, she just keeps scrolling down, message by message, knowing full well there’s a lot more than she probably expects.

“Wow.” She smacked her lips.

“What?”

Oh dear, there goes your heart again, thumping away so loud you could feel it in your ears.

“All this time I just presumed you were a dork but -”

“What?”

Oh dear.

Oh dear lord.

Her face flushed.

Here we go.

You breathe out, holding the air inside your lungs.

“You are quite the kinky beast.”

_What._

You were expecting something along the lines, but not that, no sir.

“Barbara, what the hell are you talking about, now?”

She chuckles breathlessly, knowing full well whatever she’s about to say is going to have you wishing you were far, far away….or dead.

“You let some guy jerk off to you in an animal suit. that’s so..dirty, you naughty...naughty girl!”

What the actual fuck… you froze, absolutely dead, inside and out.

“Oh my god, Barbara!” You hiss at her in an angry whisper. “Don’t say that out loud!”  
It wasn’t weird till she said it loud and clear! Now you were thinking all sorts of things you never had. Was this really that bad? What have you done? Oh no.

“You’re just only now embarrassed?” She shook her head. “If it makes you feel better, he said he set it as his background, so at least all his friends know also how much of babe you are in a pink bunny suit too.”

You swallowed. “Thanks, I feel so much better - not.”

It had always been difficult for you to make friends, not that you weren’t friendly, it was just hard… although there were sometimes in life that simply had you just wished you had none because everything could be so much more manageable and a lot less tragedy free.

Now you just wished those moments of silence had lasted a little longer than what they did, in between the enormous shitty moments that took all the special defining moments away.

For it was always far easier to recapture and hold on to the bad, then it is the picture the good.

“Hey, don’t think about it - it’s a good picture, I bet his friends very envious.”

“If he has friends and isn’t a creepy bald guy in his mother’s basement.” You snap back.

“Okay, you have a point.” She tsks, tapping her polished fingernails on the bench. She was thinking, pressing her lips to the side deep in thought, you could tell and if anyone could tell who someone was, it had to be her… she seemed to know everyone around here.

She mumbles before shutting the screen shut. “Okay, okay… hmm... “ Barbara rubbed her chin.

“So? Do tell me of your wisdom oh wise one.”

“He’s angsty as fuck and likes the color black. So that dulls it down to at least 70% of the guys here.”

Well, you already knew it wasn’t Edward.

“And I don’t believe it’s Oswald, he’s broody, not downright violent.”

Well…. That’s good.

“Plus he said he was working for Oswald, so it wouldn’t make much sense.”

What.

“Whoa… Barbara what?!”

“O.C - honey, please tell me it didn’t you this long to figure that out?!”

O.C? You remembered that now. Wasn’t that from the first couple of messages, that was ages ago… before…. Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh why, oh no…. “Barbara AM I WORKING WITH HIM?!”

What was going on?

Your eyes were scanning over the whole joint, looking at every face, every detail, but you saw nothing, nothing, no one stood out, but he was here - he had to be, right here under your nose this entire time and you had no idea? How could that be? If you had spoken to him at some point, surely you would have known, something would have stood out!!

“Probably yeah.”

“Oh fuck… oh fuck…. Oh, fucking hell.” You couldn’t stand still, you had to sit and curl up into a little ball and die silently under your own terms.

“Are you okay?”

No.

You slid down behind the bar covering your face. “Why me?” you sobbed without tears, it was more of a cry for help.

Barbara laughed.

You had no idea why.

“Hey, I just thought of something…”

“...Please don’t say it.”

“I think I know who it is.” She chuckles. “You definitely know him.”

You try to plead through your knees, not able to look up at her “I don’t wanna know.”

“Oh, trust me you’ll want to know after I tell you.”

Whining slowly, you know she’s telling the truth. “Er… Tell me slowly.”

“Well, I knew you’d come around soon enough.” Pride reeked in her voice. “As we said before he has to be around his thirties - he likes dark colors; which honestly is not helpful. He works for Oswald, and yet he is dark by nature, but his mind is full of delectable desire.”

Barbara pauses and the wait kills you far more than you thought possible.

You had no idea where she was going with this.

“So any guesses, or do I have to keep going.” She tsks.

“Keep going.”

“You are so hopeless, honestly.”

“He’s annoying.” She adds. “He apparently pisses people off.” She staggers her pace, waiting for you to catch on. “He’s a stalker, a hunter…. Owns two pistols….”

Everything is black.

Nothing has meaning.

It’s a dream.

A nightmare.

Pinch your skin and wake up.

Please…

Please.

  
This truly was a nightmare of itself, you talked to this guy thinking this whole time everything was okay because you had no idea who he was, surely that itself would not draw on unwelcomed repercussions, but now everything was being questioned, everything you believed was wrong. This was wrong… Did the person on the other end know who you were this entire time? Were they doing this on purpose? Playing you like a fool, because that’s what this whole current situation felt like.

“Wendell.”

“Uh no.” You stood. “What?” You weren’t sure if she was actually being fucking serious with you. Was Barbara Kean actually suggesting that all this time you had been on and off again flirting with FUCKING Wendell?

“What… I told you it was bad.” She shrugged. “If it makes you feel any better - just think, Victor has probably seen your girly pictures… ooh, la la.”

“That is not funny, not even a little bit.”

“It is a bit.”

No. not it was not. All you needed was Victor to be thrown into the mix right now and to be honest you never wanted to see that guy ever again; what he did hurt you and it stung deep.

You grasped needing air, fresh air not from in here.

Was Barbara right?

You just expected the guy for some reason to be more a dashing rogue, unless that was just your long night stupid fantasies bring pause to your ideals. But you forget yourself, do you really know this guy? He could be anyone, and that includes Wendell.

You huff.

“I need a break, cover for me please?”

“Uh I like you honey, but not that much.”

“I’ll be ten minutes.” you walked out before she could answer.

 

~

 

 

Breathe.

Exhale...

Breathe.

Exhale...

The night was dark and yet the street lamps blinked on and off over your head while pacing through an almost empty the parking lot. Your fingers combed through your hair, pulling it down over your shoulders.

What were you doing?

You weren’t sure, you should be inside but it was all too much… everything was too much to deal with right now.

Pulling your heels off one at a time you sat slowly with your head to the ground. Your feet ached, as they had been all day although now they ached along with everything else that took apart of your being. Everything was wrong, everything you thought.

Were your instincts always that off?

You thought your guy was rough, yeah, but something told you it wasn’t all the case, sometimes he was generally sweet like he was putting on an act...a facade.

But.

Maybe you were wrong, maybe it was Wendell or someone like him, just a ‘bang and get sick of in 2 weeks’ kinda guy… maybe…

Taking another breath of air, you looked up at the sky, there were no stars, pity, they would have been nice to look at if it wasn’t for all the city lights drowning them from the heavens.

You sat there for seemed a while yet it was only a few moments in time.

A car door opened from the distance and slammed closed. Shoes crunched over the loose stones as you poured yourself into your hands, lost, cold and out of place, more so than ever.

You didn’t want to shift nor move a muscle. You felt like you could stay like this forever huddled in a ball and closed up. It would be so easy to remain in the dark, sinking back into the shadowy abyss that patiently awaits yonder were light blooms and flowers with life.

It would be so easy to pretend not to exist.

It would be so easy.

  
You breathe out and slowly stand, admitting defeat to your own feelings, drying your eye and fixing your hair, no matter what you felt, you’d keep it on the inside, someplace cold and dark where it could feaster and no longer bother anyone but yourself as it eats away behind closed doors, because everything is easier that way. Like you can pretend that you had a friend that wasn’t just playing you for a fool or something even worse.

Step by step you drifted slowly between the heels of your feet, not uttering a single wince from the rocks beneath your soles or chill under your toes. It doesn’t matter, you feel numb at this point anyway.

Cicadas humming fill the white noise, offbeat from the occasional car that drove by or the smell of burning rubber that fills your senses.

And other things that did too.

Like a matte black car, you had seen before stationed outside The Iceberg. It lures you closer inch by inch, till you tilt your neck but you don't appear to notice the driver nor anyone within but the tinted opaque windows.

Merely a figure of a man that stands behind it that is as equally as dark as the sky and everything in between. Even with his head turned he toyed with your emotions, your feelings, everything that once was turned into grains of sand that slowly sifted through the breaks of fingers, day after day, night after night.

“Zsasz.”

He had always just Victor to you yet now he was nothing but another bad memory, one far too easy to dwell on.

Turning on the heels of his shoes, he looked upon you ice cold, emotionless; almost as if he was looking straight through you, which only had you questioning if even recognized you at all.

Which he probably didn’t, considering you hadn’t seen him in weeks.

“What do you want?” He answered back as dull as ever.

What did you want?

Breaking on your words would be so easy right now, so you pace them slowly enough not to trip “The truth would be a nice.”

Victor does nothing but lifts one of his hairless brows. “You know...don't you?” He almost grinned those pearly white teeth, snide, intruded by the wounded prey that oozes out in front of him.

“Yes.”

“So smart, yet so naive. Pity.” He ends his words tip of his tongue.

Your breath stalls in your core, making your body ache for more. “All this time, I was what - just a job, a fucking contract?”

“Pretty much.”

The gall of this man had you wordless. “And that’s it? I was just a game?”

Victor tenses his jaw, stepping foremost, he didn’t relish that remark, in fact, perhaps he loathed it. Though, it was always arduous to figure out precisely what goes behind that thick armor plated shield he wields so vigorously.

“That’s what you want to hear?” he barks loudly, overpowering your stance. “There’s nothing between us princess, there never was and there never will be, so get that fucking idea out of your head.”

“I…” your words trembled. “- know.”

“Then stop looking at me like you’re heartbroken and go back inside.” Victor shakes his head and stops only stare at you with pity before climbing into his car.

All this time you thought he was just being a dick.

But honestly…

He was just a fucking coward.

And you were glad he had moved on…

...cause now maybe you could too.

  
~

  
“Hey, you,” Barbara called out to you went back in. “Did you get it out of your system?”

You nodded slightly feeling the burn return in the back of your heels.

“And…” She nagged for details.

“I can’t be heartbroken over something that never existed.” It hurt more to say then you thought, but you needed to hear yourself say it out loud.

“Good.” Barbara smiled. “Heartbreak is a bitch, but you need to be a tougher bitch…. Speaking of bitches, mind coming over here and doing your job?!”

That was probably a good idea.

“So, now that you are all out in the open and you have no more drama left in your life… thanks to me.” She said a little too proudly. “Are you up for that job?”

“What job?”

“It’s super easy, something you’re just perfect at! I need you to be distraction…”

That sounded ominous at best, “A distraction?” You questioned.

“You heard me, I need someone looking the other way while I get some people into a place… I can’t afford any more drawbacks.”

“And who am I distracting exactly?”

“My ex.”

You blink twice. “The detective guy?”

“Actually he’s the captain now, but titles are titles - however, I still need him distracted nonetheless.”

That was asking a bit much.

“Barbara…” You whine out her name. “Why me, I can’t even… talk to guys, little alone distract them!”

“Pretend you’re deaf.”  
  
You roll your eyes. “I think you are asking too much of me.”

“No, I just did you a huge favor. Because of me, you didn’t fall in love with another idiot - and you’re the only person I know that Jim doesn’t know.”

Jim?

The guy your sister had a fling with?

Oh dear.

Oh dear.

Let's hope she moved on.

“This is a bad idea.”

She didn’t seem to care. “I know that - but we don’t have much choice… it’ll only be for two to three hours max, I promise.”

That didn’t sound so bad. “You promise?”

“I promise. What are bisexual, fuck, feasts for anyway?” Barbara winked.

Right…

 

* * *

 

_Victor Zsasz's point of view_

 

The car door unlocked as his tranquility was broken. “Zsasz, it’s all done.”

He didn’t speak or move his hands from the wheel, for he was far too deep in contemplation.

“Zsasz.”

Wendell tsked his tongue, most likely questioning why the car hadn’t started, Victor wasn’t one to ever sit quiet or take his time when executing a task.

“Victor.”

His head turned, eyes blaring their natural shade of black. “What?”

“The car… we should go… home, it’s late.”

That’s true, home sounded far better than here outside the Iceberg or in this car for that matter.

Victor started the engine as he listened to his car roar with a silent purr.

“What’s with the smug look?” Victor asked.

“Nothing ay, just those two ladies -” he chuckled. “They are real live wires - even the blonde one.”

Victor didn’t know Barbara was in there; that was fresh to him. “How was she?”

“Who?”

Zsasz gave him a look, refusing to say her name.

“She’s fine if you count a fake smile.”

Which he didn’t.

Wendell shuffled in his seat, “I am guessing you spoke to her?”

“Yup.”

He poked at raw wounds. “And?”

“I told her what she needed to hear - she’s a good girl, she deserves better.”

“Deep man, but I feel ya… though I still think you’re stupid as hell for letting a girl like that walk away - mission or no mission… “

Wendell didn’t get it, his head was too thick.

“You don’t get it.” Victor sighed tiredly. “Falcone took me in, gave me a purpose and raised me from the fucking dirt, I respect the man - So, I am not going to make an enemy out of the man just because of a girl.”

“Even if she hates you for it?” Wendell replies.

Victor didn’t answer.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

`

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Victor has a very high admiration and respect for Carmine Falcone in this.  
> So in regard to that I think it would take him more than (just) 'liking' someone for him break that bond. 
> 
> At this point in time anyway. . .
> 
> He doesn't succeeded in always doing what's best, but his respect and morals are very important to him.
> 
>  
> 
> Anyways, Thanks for reading :D


	22. Uncomfortably numb

 

 

 

Dreams.

Or were they nightmares.

It was hard to tell at times the way they changed, stirring your sleep, haunting your thoughts at night, only leaving memories that all too well staggered on through the day. Getting up was harder, every day seemed to grow longer while every night felt far more empty.

To say you missed him ~ whoever he was was an understatement. Between feeling stupid and generally annoyed at yourself for letting it go so far. You felt a certain amount of emptiness, like even though everything told you what you were doing was wrong, bad even. You felt as if you were just to let loose and do what your heart desires, that if you broke free of those metaphorical chains that bound you to the right path and just read what he had to say, you’d probably never regret it.

And everything about that had you on the edge of your toes, reacting to every buzz, vibrate and tune. It wasn't like it was arduous to overlook, but he had his own way of dragging you back in… leaving nothing but a strong allure or possibly just toxic codependency.

For Wendell?

No…

Barbara had to be off; you were almost sure of it. However, she wasn't wrong about the O.C / Cobblepot thing. To think out of all the people in Gotham that miss messaged you, it had to be someone who worked for the same guy, right under your nose; It was all just another spine chilling thought and those didn't occur often.

But what if she wasn't wrong?

What if he was who she said. What if he wasn't all black and white, more the person you came to know over the time you had come to understand this certain person and not every that just met the eye? Could you disregard everything that you saw and heard, only to take in every word you had read? To like a person for what they wrote not what they say or do? Which side was real? Did your first impressions matter?

You had liked Victor after all.

Where did that get you… an empty feeling stuck between questioning what was real and what was just a forced facade spun by the one and only Victor Zsasz.

He played you. Made you think things, made you feel things, what they were… you were still unsure… but whatever they may be, they left you feeling that could only be described as numb.

Cause honestly, the more time that went on and the more you reminisced about it, the more you felt nothing. And at the end of the day, hating him for everything he said would have been far easier, because at least then it would have been something, rather than remembering all the little things that used to make you smile, that now had no impact on you what's so ever.

Like the bridge overlooking the city, the view was so beautiful that night, how the city seemed to span on forever. For once it looked like a cluster of stars instead of a giant shithole. However, for that brief moment, none of that mattered. As soon his coat draped around your shoulders you knew he wasn't all made out to be… that maybe somewhere deep down… he cared, even if it was a little, even if it was all for your father's sake; how much of it was fake?

Was this guy different? This unknown person? What did they show for it, they hadn't even given you a name, just a promise they'd ‘hunt you down’ which genuinely at this point made your stomach turn, conflicted as you were at this point on the assumption of meeting them. For whoever they are to be exactly like Victor.

Someone who plants feelings, only pull them out by the roots just as they are starting to bloom.

Although, in the end, were you any better for punishing this person on ‘ifs and buts?’ what if they actually did like you? What if whoever they were, Wendell including was a decent human being with actual emotions that wasn't screwed up like Zsasz.

All of this was wrong. Bad for him, worse for you. Being hurt again wasn't something you wanted to go through, especially if it was going to be over someone you more than just ‘liked.’ And by now it was hard to say, but easier to think… maybe this guy, however bad he was… was far too easy to like and that had you far more than terrified.

_~ Ding ~_

Your hand vibrated again already so lost in thought, it took mere seconds for you to realize that far too much time had passed all while being utterly distracted. It was him, the ungodly message, a subtle reminder of that feeling that ate away at your insides, reminding you truly of how much you could miss someone you honestly knew nothing about… except for the feelings they made you feel. Confused, saddened, on edge… you wanted him to go away, to leave you alone, but at the same time losing him was equally difficult.

You didn't want either.

And you knew he wouldn't wait around forever. How long would it take for him lose interest, forget you exist? Does he think about you… does daydream and ponder stupid little things that leave him with a smile? If you leave now, you'll never know.

And neither will you see it.

His smile, his face, to know his name or anything. Everything will just be like it was before, except you'll be seeing him all the time and never even knowing it.

If only he knew that. Then perhaps that hunt his of his would be short lived, even if he hadn't seen your face, your personality would have been a dead give away… or perhaps not.

_~ Ding ~_

You sighed, trying so hard not to look. Even a flash would have you back around his little finger.

_~ Ring ~_

You opened an eye, looking down at the soft hue lighting up the screen between the gentle wave of music. Barbara, not him… for a second - a small second, you wished it was him, but you kid yourself if you think he'd ever call.

“Hello?” you answered, holding it firmly to your ear.

“Hey, everything is almost in order. Did you get the dress? I had it delivered.”

How could you miss the large brightly colored bag at the front of your door this morning, you practically tripped over it when opening your door.

“I did. If you think for even a second -”

“You’re wearing it.”

You sigh. “I AM wearing it... and I'll have you know it makes me look like thirty something year old woman with life goals, you know detest that sort of thing.”

Black, to the knee, slim physique hugging and spaghetti straps, what on earth was she fucking thinking.

“You caught on fast for once, that's the point.”

“Well, it's not me.”

Not even close.

“Oh, I am sorry… they ran out of doc martin's and save-mart material.”

Ouch.

“Fuck you and your style - last time I looked like a fucking sausage. That really worked out for me well.”

You were pretty sure your spleen never actually fully recovered after that.

“Stop complaining, you owe me remember - wear the dress and be at The Iceberg 6 PM sharp.”

6 PM? You never went to work that early, typically you did the usual night shift.

“Wait, that’s not my hours! - I am supposed to be there at eight.”

The line went silent before you heard a brief crackle on the other end, “I know, look... - don’t worry your pretty little head, I pulled in some favors with our favorite bird, everything is in order. You know what you have to do, just do it.”

She hung up, leaving you stalling at the screen. Call ended, 05:07...

17 unread messages…

You closed the phone, slapping the lid down as fast as possible, clenching it in your hand as your knuckles few tenser by the second; locking down feeling as if they would now have to be prided open.

  
5: 55 PM

 

The Iceberg was almost deserted, seats were placed above tables, curtains were drawn down. The only light was a dim glitter of candles displayed around the room, flickering with each subtle breeze. Oswald was at the back, wearing the all too familiar grim expression upon his face writing out a never ending amount of work.

Greeting him you attempted to smile, however, how painful it was. “Hey, boss.”

When he looks up and grins, and a tender sort of ease relieves your overwhelming amount of tension that has built up over the last two hours, causing nothing but a variety of trepidation forcing dreaded imaginary into that head of yours.

“Hello, dear - don’t mind me.” Oswald curled lip turned flat as he looked back down to his documents in front of his hands. “Ah - actually.” He responds blinking as if he just remembered something important. “Someone was asking after you.”

Your heart jumped.

“Oh -” Swallowing your nerves you managed to find your words. “Did… they leave a name by chance?”

Oswald kinked his head to the side, eyes peering behind you as if they were locked onto something, staring or gazing at an object just further on from yourself forcing you to turn on instinct.

To your delight, it wasn’t a man.

Rather it was a girl or more specifically a teenager. Standing behind you, curly hazel hair resting upon her shoulders, dressed all in black with her arms folded tucked into her chest. You had never seen the likes of her before.

“- I am going to take a wild guess and say you aren’t selling cookies.”

The girl pinched her brows together with an exactly bored expression on her face, “Nope.” She moved forward, “Just here for the show and to be a gentle reminder not screw up our plan.”

Fucking great, Barbara.

Surely it should have been a dead giveaway that she’d have a third party involved to keep an eye on you, to put you in line and make sure you don’t fuck up her ‘plans’ considering at this point in time, that’s all you seemed to do; or at least it felt that way.

“Well, all that’s going to have a to wait, I have a place to set up.” You turn your head, spinning on your feet, trying so damn hard to obviously avoid this whole scenario Barbara had planned out. The whole forced ‘Charm and distract’ was never one of your major skills, more like witty humor and great taste in comfortable shoes.

“Isn’t that right boss…” looking back at Oswald, he smiled to himself not making contact. “See...” you affirmed starting to place down the stacked chairs.

The kid was watching, you could feel the eyes tracking your movements, that and the dress Barbara had chosen was pulling your legs together at the knees and was making it uncomfortable to walk it without constantly pulling at the hems.

“That dress doesn’t suit you - at all.” She makes a snide remark from behind, forcing you to stare back with a glare.

“You fuc-” pausing, you remembered Oswald didn’t approve of swearing in the workplace. “I.. I know - after this, I am going to burn it in the fires of Mordor, along with my embarrassing memories of wearing it. You quote that back to Barbara.”

“Barbara didn’t buy it, Tabs did.” The girl remarked to the unfamiliar name. “She said if she wanted you to look good, but also make it difficult for you to run - if she ends up having to come after you.”

“Great.” You sighed, lifting the last chair before straightening it out. “I bet she’s great at parties. You can tell her that I said ‘screw you.’ And I’d rather wear one of Babs matching Power ranger pantsuits any day.”  
  
Well maybe not, though she didn’t need to know that.

The girl scoffed as you turned back to the bar. “Are you going to tell me your name, or am I going to have to guess it? Because I am not in the mood kid, I am grumpy, tired, depressed and really uncomfortable.”

“Selina.” She dipped her head, propping herself on top of a bar stool. “I already know yours.”

Of course she did, everyone just seemed to know everything about everyone… expect you. “I expected as much, so Barbara gave you the famous 101 on everything me related?”

“Just everything I needed to know - which wasn’t much.”

Oh.

“Screw her too.” You tied your apron over your waist. “No, you know what - I’ll tell her myself - after I strangle her with her own hair extensions.” You muttered the last half to yourself in a mumbled state.

You didn’t want anything to do with any of this.

This kid, Selina. James Gordon, Oswald. To be here. Any of it.

Surely she had someone else, someone better. But, no… it was always you who had to be drawn straight into the middle of everything.

“You can tell her anything you want after you’re finished. In which case the man of the hour will be here in -” She pulled back her sleeve to check her watch, one that was obviously far too big for a slender wrist. “Forty minutes, he has an urgent appointment with Penguin.”

Looking over your shoulder Oswald had no reaction. Was everyone in on this? What the hell was Barbara even doing, and why were you being her fucking accomplice?!

“Please tell me I am not being an accessory to murder, wait doesn’t tell me.” You try to move away, scrunching your nose.

“That demands on you not screwing up, otherwise no, everything should be quick and easy. It’s only when someone doesn’t play their part when things head south pretty fast.”

Great.

  
6: 35 PM

 

  
“No, for the last time I am not putting vodka in your lemonade. I don’t care if I’d get away with it, I am trying to a responsible adult for once and you are clearly under twenty-one.” You huffed moving away from Selina pouring another drink before sliding it across the bar.

Minutes seemed to take hours to pass by, every moment was filled with dread, but however unpleasant it was it made you forget about everything you left at home, all of the feelings that had been piling up had simply been drowned out by other emotions; fear and agitation taking the top score.

But nothing seems to stop Selina from continuing to muse over her glass. “I have already had it before.”

“And? I was drinking booze at your age as well, but I wasn’t hanging out in bars, then again I wasn’t exactly cute enough to get in…” Reliving moments in your head seemed have gotten you sidetracked. “But that’s beside the moment, I am not doing it and you’re not going to peer-pressure me into doing it, cause peer-pressure is my thing.”

“You.. as a teenager…” Selina scoffed. “It can’t be worse than now.”

“Hilarious,” You said, sarcastically. “I guess you could say I never fitted in with the crowd being a tad dark and angsty. I was a troublemaker, you know that one kid that everyone’s parents tells you to stay away from, that was me.” You raise a brow, pouring another drink for another person; biding all the time you could get.

“Looks like you never grew out of that, if you’re doing this for Barbara.”

Maybe she had a point, a normal life doing a normal job never did seem to ever have its appeal, it’s what drew you here in the first place, working in underworld areas where most common people would have usually bolted at their glance.

“I guess you could say that.”

Maybe after all this time, being bad was just in your blood.

“Well,” Selina raised her glass. “Here’s to doing what we want, and not what we are told.” She winked, taking a sip of her drink before letting it clunk onto the bench.

Though you wanted to smile back, something had caught your eye from behind her shoulder, a glimmer, arched pointed shoulders, black and white, the strong smell of leather had you physically gagging in the back of your throat before you could turn on your heels, just in time to duck behind the bar.

“What?” Selina leaned forward eyeing down at you as you heaved from your chest, trying so hard to distant out your breaths and not to hyperventilate yourself into an early grave.

Her eyes met yours, quickly you tried to shoo her back before she could blow your cover. “Stop looking, I am hiding.”

Her voice hushed, shrugging her shoulders together probably querying if something major was about to occur. “What - why?!”

“Guy predicaments… does it matter? - I am trying to be stealth.” You whispered back. “Believe it all you want Selina, but there are some people in this world I’d preferably avoid!”

She glanced back before arching her head, obviously catching on to who you meant, it’s not like those two were ever subtle when entering a place. “Zsasz and eye patch dude?”

Eh, those names, even hearing anything of the sort was bad… to think you could go at least three days without hearing them out loud was itself a blessing, now that streak was ruined by the allure and smell of those two, who legitimately stank of leather and death.

“Yeah.” You rolled your eyes. “Now stop staring, they won’t know I am here if you kee-”

“Ayy, gorgeous… a girl like you shouldn’t be on your knees unless…” He chuckled and at the same time, you rolled your head back, smacking it against the back counter and rolled your ankle at the same time.

This just wasn’t your day. No… no, no, no sir.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT?” That came out a little to fast and just a scarce too loud, you snapped back up, feeling a heat accumulate in your left joint.

Wendell was staring at you. Staring at your dress, your hair, your face, your dress, your legs, just the whole thing, you watched his eyes as they moved; full well knowing this guy may have seen you in a fucking bunny suit at some point!

He moved forward, just next to Selina, sinking his chin onto his knuckles amidst a grin that could illuminate this whole room. “Just two drinks beautiful.”

Huh.

“W...what?” Where you actually getting lost for words or was it the nerves.

“Two drinks.” He chuckled, “A glass of scotch and something sweet for the fairy princess over there.” He looked back with a smile. “He’s feeling a little blue.” Wendell pouted his lips to a frown.

Scotch… sweet… your fingers trembled, trying to grab a bottle from the top shelf, Zsasz was across the room, his back to you walking with your boss.

How could this night get any worse?

“I’ll bring them over when they are ready.” God, the way he looked at you had your stomach twisting and not in a good way.

“A’ight, don’t take too long sugar.” He winked pacing off.

As soon as he was in parting distance from hearing your silent freaking out had become more audible, between the breathy pants and the nonchalant pacing it was fairly obvious to the naked eye you were freaking out.

“Dammit, damnit, damnit.” You cussed, tearing at your hair, fixing your dress, wiping your hands. Why did everything have to go so wrong already and the worst of it hadn’t even started?

You needed to breathe.

And so you did, taking one large breath before letting it out in a huff.

“Are you okay? Those are some serious problems you have right there.” Selina’s voice echoed over your own inner thoughts.

“You don’t say -” Er… “If you hadn’t…” No, it wasn’t her fault…

“He was already coming this way when you reacted.” She swayed on her seat, looking back again. “He still has that stupid grin on his face - please don’t tell me you like - him.”

Was he that bad?

You clenched your jaw, looking for yourself.

Well, he wasn’t exactly prince charming…

“No, I… do not….” You said while blinking, parting your gazes. “Why would you think that?!”

“Because… ah, he unmistakably has a thing for you.”

Was it that apparent? Your fingers pinched the bridge of your nose; yes of course it was.

Everyone could see it.

Did he know it was you… texting him?

Everything told you it was highly unlikely.

On the plus side, at least you were the first to figure it out. God help you if you would have been the second.

Wendell looked at you again from across the bar.

Eh.

Drinks, right. Scotch.

You seized the bottle and a cup and poured it in before shifting it to the side. What was the other thing? Something sweet, for fuck sake, when will Victor learn were you work isn’t a freaking diner.

But at this point, none of that mattered.

Urgh, “Sweet...sweet…” You hissed turning on your toes. For the life of you could never understand why a man who held himself a devout serial killer, drank sweetened alcohol like a giddy sixteen year girl.

“What are you - making…” You heard the snide remark from the young girl

“A Piña colada.”

“Can I have one…”

“No -” You looked up. “Only if you stop asking.”

She grinned.

You were terrible with kids.

 

6: 50 PM

 

You carried the two drinks out on a plate, it seemed like the better thing to do considering your hands wouldn’t stop trembling, the fear of spilling anything on this dress or making yourself feel flustered further was not an alternative.

The closer you got the more your heels seemed to wobble under your weight, the heavier the tray felt, the more your heartbeat echoed like a dumb into your ears.

Swallowing, you walked around people carefully, every turn felt as if you were walking on a thin line.

Wendell was the first to take a glimpse, but at this point in time you were even worried about his looks, it was from another you dreaded after the last time you had made contact, where Victor had plainly made it obvious he desired nothing to do with you, that he was perfectly happy without you and as Wendell told you, he had already moved on…

When the glass of scotch was placed down, Victor finally noticed you for the first time. Normally he was quite the eagle eye, there wasn’t one time before this that he couldn’t spot you out of a room, or more specifically anything for that matter, now… you weren’t sure he could even spot a Snickers bar even if someone waved it in front of his face.

Wendell wasn’t wrong about him looking well… blue...

The poor guy looked like a gloomy fucking rain cloud. Though you couldn’t deny whatever the reason was that he most likely deserved it entirely.

And yet, you felt pretty bad for passing him Piña colada of all things.

Especially the way he looked at you.

The way he said absolutely nothing, he didn’t even blink.

Er.

“So, is that all?” You glanced back to Wendell, watching him shrug.

“Are you all good, pal?” He spoke to Zsasz.

“I am fine.”

The way he said it, slow and cold said otherwise. “Are you sure…” Because with that vibe he was emitting it was as if he just got told his girlfriend was knocked up and was going to have to pay hitman grade child support for the next eighteen years.

“...you know…” you feel ridiculous for even bestowing a lick of sympathy towards this man. “If you pledge not to go crazy, I can raid Oswald’s absinthe stash if you need something stronger.”

Actually, now that you think about it, all you need right now is these too freaking the fuck out in this place while Jim Gordon is going to be here in… oh, any minute; great… “Nope, disregard I said that…” You paced back, “But I would help you, just so you know - because I am a better person than you, Victor… but only slightly.” You pushed his glass in front of him. “I spat in it.”

Smirking you turned on your heels, appreciating the fact you didn’t - but he didn’t need to know that.

 

7: 00 PM

 

* * *

 

 

_Victors Zsasz’s point of view_

 

He learned a long time ago that the only way to live was to suppress emotions, having any of the sorts was the only way to get anywhere in this line of business. And of course, it was a long bumpy road with its fair share of twists and turns for Zsasz. From the get-go, it was all a bit much which only ended up making him question if had bitten off more than he could chew.

Which is why he thanked Falcone. It was him who set Victor straight and taught a young man to see past what was, and what is; he owed him everything for who he was today. It was only now that the shadow of the person he was before regularly haunted his subconscious, with another lingering shadow with a gentle reminder of what he could have been today, that weak minded, pathetic boy who condemned the world after the loss of his parents. The pitiable man who stood at the top of Gotham bridge, proclaiming everything was over and he’d rather deny the world's greatest pleasures, just to close his eyes and end it all.

Yet, he knew how that ended, or more like… how he gained a scar, because that first one wasn’t just for anyone, it was solely for him.

 

A reminder, that boy died on that bridge.

 

“Zsasz… yoo-hoo…” Wendell had pulled him back and the thoughts quickly faded back into where they always should have been.

“What?”

“Gonna drink that?” a chunky digit pointed to fruity concoction with the strong smell of coconut and pineapple placed before his chest.

He pushed it towards Wendell with two fingers, he hated pineapple. “Go for it.”

 

`

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okie... First of all, I am going to apologise for the late chapter, I have been ridiculously busy and secondly I had to write this chapter over 3 times - and this is only part 1 *SIGH*  
> It's always a sad day when you have to throw away 15 thousand words of failure... ah... u_u'
> 
> Thirdly. 
> 
> I have tried to stay in tune with Victor Zsasz original DC origin story. (Because honestly, it's great) and yeah, I know it was some homeless guy that was his first actual kill. But I wanted there to be another depth to his character without changing him. (cause I don't want to do that) But, I find in these romance level stories based around a /mentally unstable/ characters, it's easier to understand them, if you get a view into how their mind works... Because in the end, I don't want it feel forced...
> 
> And from the right in the beginning I wanted that bridge in Gotham to mean something to Victor.
> 
> ... Well, enough of that. 
> 
> ** - Side note - **
> 
> For 3 hours straight about a week ago I tried code in actual text message bubbles (yeah you can do it) but I wasn't able to figure it out. (I am not good with that sort of thing) XD  
> -  
> but I thought I'd share the link to any other writers out there cause honestly, it's awesome and immersive as f*ck. XD And all you people who read this, should know how much fun I'd have with emoji's if I could... heheh...
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/6434845/chapters/14729722


	23. Vanilla

7:00 PM

 

He had no idea why she was here. She wasn't supposed to be here, her whole forsaken schedule was locked tight into his mind. He wanted to avoid any contact after the last situation. In fact, any confrontation between both of them was his main priority.

“Zsasz, three o’clock.” Wendell nudged the underside of the table, giving his all too subtle hint.

James. Harvey? Those two were a real knife in his side lately.

“Got any idea why they're here?” Wendell asked out of curiosity.

Victor had no idea, and he hated being left of the loop. “I have no clue…” The only thing he did know was when those two together, it meant one thing ~ business.

“Should we…”

“No.” Victor raised a palm, turning to get a better look. It would appear as if this was at least a civil matter, no guns were drawn and better yet they weren’t armed to the teeth.

Was he just supposed to sit there and act civil? He felt restless just thinking about it. Instead, he followed his natural instincts that were all too hard to ignore. Turning ninety degrees on his seat to subtly eye James across the room just enough to get his attention and give him a cheeky wave from the other side of the bar.

He didn’t wave back nor did he show a glimpse of a smile. “Rude,” Victor mumbled to himself, just loud enough to get a snide cackle from Wendell.

“He seems a little on edge.”

Victor agreed for the most part, but being here outnumbered would have that effect on most, and James at the end of the day was only human, so all those foolhardy attempts of hiding that anxiety were merely a way of kidding himself.

“What do you think they're up too?”

He couldn't say even if Victor could guess, a simple ‘guess’ was hardly good enough to make any sort of assumptions.

“Business with the boss?” Wendell continued to talk even without Zsasz’s input. He was far too busy waiting, listening, watching for an inkling of a clue.

And yet something had him more distracted or better yet pulled away from the mark. Harvey. He was talking to ‘her’ making comments, innocent enough to make him think twice on his sudden urge for violent thoughts when he was calling her ‘sweet cheeks.’

Overprotective, that could be the word for it. Could watching this girl for so long had made him.. ‘protective’ or was it simply Falcone who had planted the idea in his head? Who was this girl to him? Being kept in the dark was driving him insane.

Was she a past lover?  
Someone who asked for protection?  
Falcone was retired, surely did not care about all that anymore.  
She had to be close…  
_...A niece?_

“Victor.”

It was then he realized maybe he had been staring for far too long.

“What?” Caring what Wendell thought about him was his least concern but something about the idea that he thought that this meant anything other than what it was; a target victim relationship… then again, Wendell always did have a tendency to blow things out of proportion and subtlety was never his strong suit.

“If you stare at Harvey any longer he’s going to _file_ a restraining order.”

Victor couldn’t even find the will to sigh. “I wasn’t - staring - at Harvey.” No, he  as staring at her while he was quietly plotting Harvey’s death for calling her _‘sweet cheeks,’_ that and a silent determination of how many objects in this bar could be classed as a melee weapon; he got up to forty three before Wendell’s unhelpful interruption.

“So the girl then? oh man… that’s just sad. Just so you know I am crying for you… on the inside.” Wendell chuckled feeding Victors inner doubts. “She’s out of your _league_ , Zsasz.”

Was she? Surely not. Victor blinked for a moment scrunching up his face. No, no, no. She was out of ‘his’ league with all her fluffy pink, purple pillows and not to forget she was the absolute worse drunk he had ever seen. She was hopeless, a little lamb with a sharp tongue.  
  
Even if the world wasn’t against the both of them, he refused to see anything but the conclusion, she wasn’t his type. He liked a girl that kept him on the edge of his toes, interested. Someone who wasn’t predictable. Seeing five moves ahead always did become tiring… and well that was her, but also not...

He liked…

_Someone else._

“You’re doing it again Victor.” He pulled at his tie turning to Wendell, the lump of a fool for making him feel confused. Not to forget she was laughing in the background now, giggling like a school girl with an attitude to match, at least she was sober, for now…

And still even with all this, it was failing to take his mind off his real problem, she still was ignoring him… her, the girl in the bunny suit. A girl with ‘killer’ baking skills. A girl that would rather give him internal bleeding than attention. She was one hell of a lady, at least he hoped she was, he wasn’t completely sure she wasn’t a very elegant man or kinky sixteen year old, weirder shit has happened in Gotham after all.

But for right now, he pictured her the best he could… beautiful, dangerous and total freak in all the right ways…

 

* * *

 

  
  
7:23 PM

  
“Oh my, that’s so funny.” You laughed on the outside and died within, how on earth did you let yourself get caught up in all this. This was crazy and stupid but more than anything had you wanting to scream out ‘WHY’ at the top of your lungs. Could this be worse? Entertaining these two strangers while being looked up by two idiots from the across of the room, _Baldemort_ and _G.I no._

Please, please… you turned your head and tried to forget they were watching, hoping for once he would just get up and leave you alone. Victor wanted nothing to do with you before, he wouldn’t even give you the light of day and now that you were talking to these two you had his attention. What was he? Jealous? It seemed even more ridiculous thinking it, he never did seem like the jealous type.

Though it was obviously foolish to make assumptions so quickly, it wasn’t like you had ever given the chance at seeing any other side of him, all you ever saw was that stuck up ass he portrayed to be unless that was all he ever was.

You tried not to think about it, but a god awful feeling in your gut found it almost satisfying at the idea he was remotely put out, that somehow he hated seeing you talk to these two policemen at the front of your bar. If it caused him even an ounce of pain it caused you, then well… that inner darkness was sated just a little more.

“You sure can pour a drink sweetheart.” Harvey innocently flirted all while James made a sour looking face as he took his glass. You could tell he had no intention on being here, he was so out of his comfort zone you could have sworn he was standing on hot coals the way he kept looking back and fidgeting. Victor neither helped the situation, he was purposely antagonizing the poor man across the room, you saw that cheeky grin. If only he looked at you the same way he looked at James Gordon or food...anything pretty much, all you got was that face that said ‘my pony got sent to the dog food factory.’

At least he wasn’t sending suggestive text messages to Wendell.

Fuck, you could almost die when his eyes meet yours across the room. They were dark brown, but nowhere near as black as Victors, who’s mirrored a one way ticket to hell.

“Thank you, you are far too kind.” You tried to smile back at Harvey, trying your best not to act like a total weirdo and replicate that one kid off the television a few years back… what was his name Jeremy - _Jerome_? Shit, you were bad with names… too bad you couldn’t have _HIM_ has an Arkham pin pal, at least he would have the decency to give you freaky phone calls in the middle of the night and send you fingers in the mail or something, whatever psychotic kids were doing these days.

Not like someone you knew… not naming names… you stared in Wendell’s direction, clunking a glass down to give Jim and Harvey your devout attention.

“Are you okay?” You asked in Jim’s direction but it took more than a few seconds for his head to snap back and realize you were, in fact, talking to him. “Huh, yes... “ He pulled his lips into a fake smile that he wore even more horribly than that dusty grey suit.

“Do you… need anything?”  
  
He stalled before he spoke, “Is Cobblepot available yet, we must see him as soon as possible.” Well, Harvey didn’t seem that way, he looked quite content perched on that bar stool.

“I could...ask.” That seemed like the reasonable thing to say.

“Yes, thank you.” He bowed his head.

Moving to the right you exited the bar, for a single moment you turned your head trying to figure out where Selina had rushed off to the second policemen had entered the bar - you couldn’t see her.

And something told you that maybe you wouldn’t, not if she wanted.

 

~

 

Knocking twice you felt yourself stall before you heard absolutely nothing on the other end. Was Cobblepot even in there? Fuck, fuck, fuck. You tried again, banging hopelessly like some helpless woman in a horror movie… ‘let me in, there’s a killer and he’s coming for meeeeee.’ You sighed after giving up, stuck here, uncomfortable and pulling the bottom of your dress down, AGAIN. Could this night get worse?

Someone would have to spill their drink on you to unlock that wild achievement, or… well.

“Princess.”

Oh for fuck sake, you turned back almost hitting the wall with a slump. What did he want… standing there...so tall and dressed so frustratingly attractive with his black suit and tie, smelling amazing as always, seriously?

“What?” What did he want? He didn’t want to talk before, so why did he follow you out back to Cobblepot's office, he made it so clear last time that there was nothing to be even remotely confused about, he didn’t like ‘you’ no, you already fucking knew that.

Victor stood still like a statue hovering in your presence, almost like wanted to say something but he didn’t have the proper words. “What -” He stopped breathing slow. “Are you doing?”

Typical, you could almost scoff, he didn’t want to talk to you… this was about information. Well fuck you, buddy, you crossed your arms with a breathy groan. “It’s none of your business.”

He didn’t like that answer, Victor was never a ‘no’ sort of man and now more than ever you could tell he wasn’t in any of the moods, moving forward and closing you further back into the wall till your head made contact.

“I asked a question.” He repeated, now in a lower huskier voice… that almost had you forget why you wanted nothing to do with him.

Your heart was pounding like a drum, almost the point you could tell he was fully aware.

“Victor, leave me alone.” It pained you to say it. “There’s nothing more to be said, you made everything clear last time we spoke… you should know…” hesitating you took a much needed breath and the few seconds you needed to think about how much of weak fool he made you at times.

“You know what?” You pushed him back, two hands to his chest. “Fuck you!”

He actually let you push him. He enjoyed it.

He smiled. That _fucking_ jerk.

“Better, I almost missed that sharp tongue princess.” He cocked his head, smug. So freaking smug it made you want to kick him in the nads all over again, although this time so much harder.

“Well, I missed…” pretty much everything. “Nothing, because you are as plain as your taste in milkshakes, fucking vanilla.”

“Ouch.” Victor cracked a face, raising those two hairless brows. “What does that make you then?”

The impudence, the absolute audacity, would Oswald object if you were to partially beat this man to death with your own fists? Maybe a pool cue… “Rocky road bitch, thick and full of surprises.” So he better watches those pearly white teeth because you wouldn’t hesitate to knock those fuckers out.

He didn’t respond, no, he just gave you half a glance. That one brow raised higher than the other like he was mentally having a ‘bitch please,’ moment.

How dare he.

“I ain’t telling you shit, Victor Zsasz.” staying strong you placed your foot down refusing to tell him anything now. “I am not going to tell you anything.”

His curiosity was now turning into frustration. “You’re going to tell me... everything,” he stated slowly like this was far more than just about Jim or Harvey or even you.

“Everything?” Everything was a lot. “You tell me something big Z, do you pluck, wax or shave those eyebrows of yours, I am asking for a fri----” before the word could finish a bare hand lashed out and covered that mouth that never seemed to learn the phrase ‘shut up.’

“Shush!” Victor pressed his own finger to his lips, “Gotta’ say princess.” here we go you thought gagged and tugging at his fine black sleeve. “Silence looks better on you than that dress.”

You agreed for the most part and that rarely happened.

“I guess I'll ask again.” he rolled his eyes to the side. “What are you doing?... try again without the cheek.” he emphasized so abruptly at the end with another one of his iconic ‘don't fuck me around,’ looks.

It was kinda cute actually.

Which only, in turn, made you despise yourself a little more than the usual self loathing.

His hand lifted from your lips. “My job you motherfu-”

“Wrong answer.” Victor paused you again with his insufferable finger. “Last time I ask one more time, or things are going to get ugly.”

Was that a threat?

What did that even mean? Was he going to break your fingers one at a time or was he going to tickle you till you till you started to cry?

So many possibilities.

So many decisions, so little time.

“You can’t hurt me more than you already have Victor, so go threaten someone else.” You told him firmly. “Furthermore to me you aren’t even scary, you just look like a guy who cries in the shower.”

“You have that effect on people.” Zsasz replied bluntly. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

`

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late chapter - and I know that my previous chapters kinda suck. but I am trying. o_o  
> I went back and read some old chapters over. omfg, what the hell was I thinking...
> 
> So I must ask. Does anyone have a favourite Joke so far?
> 
> I write so many, some are actually pretty decent... those Harry Potter ones weren't too bad XD
> 
>  
> 
> \\\// Side note. \\\//
> 
> Victor's 'b*tch please' face is so totally real. Okay. XD
> 
> And I have only now just come to the conclusion that their relationship dynamics are far too similar too Sweeney Todd and Mrs. Lovett  
> But ah well...


	24. Just ask me

 

 

 

  
“I do not.”

“Sorry to be the bringer of bad news, princess.”

You hissed back firm, struggling against him to get a good stance. “Shut up, Victor.”

“Ladies _first._ ” He replied wearing a smug smile.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. The reality of the situation was hard to fathom or more accurately the way he acted. It was like you were invariably at war with him. Sometimes he was carefree, acting on his own accord and other times he seemed like he wasn’t even himself, bound tightly on a leash.

It was confusing.

It was heartbreaking.

It actually hurt.

To have a taste of what it could have been like.

“I was assisting Barbara.” confessing didn’t make you feel any better, not with the sigh that divided his lips nor the hand struck against the wall alongside your head.

“Again?” He closed his eyes like this was some immense problem, either that or he just hated Barbara with rich enthusiasm. “Just tell me - why.”

Why did he think? Was it so difficult to wonder? “I was returning a favor for a friend Victor. That’s what people do - it’s not like you wouldn’t understand, you have Wendell, and he’s not exactly what I would _call -”_

His eyes enlarged giving the utmost foulest look you had ever seen. “You know Wendell?” He interrupted almost carrying on like a child.

As if it was a shocker, the way he comes in prancing around like he’s the King of Gotham with his golden scepter shoved so far up his ass.

“Of course I do Victor, I work here - he works here, it’s a mutual _relationship.”_ By the end of the sentence you could have sworn he was grinding his teeth, the vein above his brow thick and bulging.

... _It seems like that is the only that ever gets thick and bulgy._

“Victor,” He just clenched his eyes, it was like he knew what you were mentally imagining, or maybe not…. “Victor, is it really a massive concern?”

He remained soundless, relishing the peace and quiet between you. “Stay - away from him, princess. You don’t want to mix with the wrong people, once you’re in, you can never leave.” He announced it as if he saw it every day, perhaps he did, or possibly it was first hand experience, it wasn’t like you could ask, he always seemed so difficult to talk too.

But whether he was right or wrong, it was too late. “I don’t need you to save me, I’ve never asked. I never will,” declaring it out loud made you feel like some kind burden or even a responsibility he wore so greatly upon his shoulders, but that wasn’t the case… how could it be?

Zsasz blinked his eyes slowly pulling himself back together, straightening out the cuffs of his sleeves and adjusting his tie. For the first time ever could have sworn he looked just how he felt on the side and there were no words to describe it, but you could feel it.

The feeling of a broken soul.

“I don’t understand why you would care, I don’t mean anything to you - I never have.” It hurt yourself more than it hurt him to say that, and yet it felt like it needed to be said because obviously, he didn’t understand as clear as you assumed. “I don’t understand, you can’t act like you don’t give a shit about me then as soon someone else comes into my life and fuck everything over, my life isn’t a something you can mess around with Victor, I don’t care... -” You took a second to catch your words. “I don’t care what Falcone wanted.”

It seemed like only now you had grabbed his attention.

“I am not your toy and neither am I his. I don’t need either of you, but that doesn’t mean I don’t desire to be in both lives - because I do…” You almost wanted to reach out, to act on any feelings you were having, but in the end, you would just be kidding yourself, you knew his own desires far beyond your reach.

Leaving you feeling nothing but empty.

He was going to leave you thought, watching him hoover away to the hallway, a single fist pressed against the arch, his back turned. He stood there for a moment.

Brooding?

Was there even on chance on earth he would choose to stay?

To choose… _you?_

No. your heart sunk. Another stupid fantasy shattered before it could commence.

_“Princess.”_

You almost jumped at the stupid name, eyes ahead, more alert. “Victor.”

Sullen eyes were staring back, dark and full of thought. “...Is he supposed to be leaving?” He said pointing towards the front of the bar.

_What._

Jim? Oh no. to the entrance you looked out. Shit. “No.” it came cussing out. “No, no, he most certainly is not supposed to be leaving.”

Barbara was going to murder you. “Oh god, fuck!” How were you going to get him back? What were you going to do? Looking down at your watch, there was still time left, not much but still enough to destroy everything.

“He’s not supposed to leave! He can’t.”

Victor almost moaned with detest, clenching his forehead, pinching the bridge of his nose with his finger and thumb. “Ask.” He said bluntly out nowhere.

“Ask?” ask what. What was he talking about, this wasn’t time for riddles or games. “Victor…”

His cold look grasped you, eyes wide. “Ask,” he echoed.

It finally sunk in, he wanted you to ask for help. You couldn’t believe it. “No! I will not.”

“He’s leaving, oh look princess - he’s at the fucking door… tick tock, _beautiful._ ”

Did just call you…

Oh.

Where those butterflies?

Fuck.

“Help me…. Please.” regret, you knew you were going to have it. You could feel it on the horizon. But right now, right at this moment, you couldn’t care less. _“Please.”_

He smiled softly, reaching into his coat on the words. “You only ever had to ask.”

What was he going to do? Nothing good probably.

“Victor!” You tried to call out to him, but by now he was already close to the front door, maybe a little too eager to catch up. “Victor I need to tell you something!”

“I am…” He couldn’t hear. “Falcone’s _daughter_.” you sighed kicking your own shoe into the ground.

 

  
_~_

 

  
“That could have gone smoother.” Like she could talk. You looked down at the girl with curly locks. It was done, completed and you declared never to ever get entangled into any more of Barbara Kean’s crap, even if a life depended on it. This level of tension wasn’t worth it.

“Don’t get cocky kid.” you were tired and felt oddly isolated. “The job is done and I don’t owe you or Barbara anything more, I am out of your little girly pack forever - so don’t get any more notions.” Huffing you shoved your hands into the pocket of your coat. The night was cold and the walk home appeared somehow longer with each step.

But more when your fingers grazed the edge of your phone, one in which stopped buzzing a long time ago.

“I don’t make the rules,” She answered, “Why the glum face?” Selina skipped ahead.

“Stuff.” You shrugged.

“More - “

“Guy dilemmas?” Selina gave you a look of entertainment. “Out with it.”

Out with what? You could almost laugh if you weren't noticeably suffering and greatly confounded. Yet there was one thing you could do.  
Reaching into your pocket you handed the girl the object deep within, it was almost hard to let to let go.

“Uh...thanks.” She said with a snide remark. “What am I supposed to do with this, call you?” Selina lifted a brow confused.

“Don’t gape at me like that.” you felt the same way. “Read me the last message, please. Just the last one. It would… help, I think.”

The young girl flipped it opened almost inquisitive. “Wow, there’s a lot of…”

“I know - just the last.” You urged her to proceed.

“Okay, okay.” Selina sighed, clicking away at buttons, probably scrolling through absolute hell right now.

Only her face changed when it hit the bottom, making realize something was up.

“They said…”

_“Yes?”_

Selina closed the phone in silence and surrendered it back without a word.

 

 

“He misses you.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

`

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do enjoy when Victor slips up.
> 
> ...Just a little too much.


	25. If only you knew

[ - ]

Surprise!

Ha. I am alive

kinda  

12: 32 AM

 

[ - ]

Strong emphasis on

‘kinda’

12: 34 AM

 

 

[ - ]

okay, I know it seems like I was ignoring you.

‘but.’

1: 02 AM

 

[ - ]

The truth,

i’ll confess

1: 02 AM

 

[ - ]

I can’t believe you are making me say this

1: 03 AM

 

[ - ]

I’ll only say it once, only once

1: 03 AM

 

[ - ]

I AM AN ASSHOLE.

HAPPY?!!!@!1!

1: 06 AM

 

[ - ]

Seriously.

that wasn’t enough??!

you’re going to make me suffer arent you?

FINE

BUT I AM TAKING YOU TO HELL WITH ME.

1: 08 AM

 

[ - ]

fine,

i’ll write you a poem

2: 22 AM

 

[ - ]

Potatoes are brown

Corpses are blue

I hate our feuds

So send me your nudes

;)

 2: 34 AM

 

[Private]

Straight from the heart.

 2: 36 AM

 

[ - ]

heh. you couldn’t resist my charm forever, could you?

Let me guess, you’re weeping from the sheer beauty of my poetic nature

 2: 36 AM

 

[Private]

It’s like watching Titanic all over again.

 2: 37 AM

 

[ - ]

HOW COULD YOU??!?

2: 39 AM

 

[Private]

Sometimes I like to scare myself

It helps me remember who’s in charge.

 2: 41 AM

 

[ - ]

Deep. you hit me right in the feels.

-

Has anyone told you that you are all work and no play?

Cause seriously dude, take a vacation

2: 45 AM

 

[Private]

I play plenty.

2: 45 AM

 

[ - ]

with yourself doesn’t count, cupcake

2: 45 AM

 

[Private]

Has anyone ever complimented your vivid imagination?

2: 46 AM

 

[ - ]

only you

2: 46 AM

 

[Private]

Oh, well. Don’t get too enthusiastic, muffin.

2: 49 AM

 

[ - ]

why, have you been complimenting anyone else lately?

2: 51 AM

 

[Private]

Only you.

 2: 51 AM

 

[ - ]

Sweet talker.

why are you buttering me up

what do you want this time? mhm

2: 52 AM

 

[Private]

Just one thing.

2: 53 AM

 

[ - ]

alcohol ..

.. gold

rock n roll

virgins

viagra?

A year supply of Krispy Kreme?!

 2: 55 AM

 

[Private]

...Two things.

 2: 55 AM

 

[ - ]

Ha, I changed your mind

 2: 56 AM

 

[Private]

*Added to it.

3: 00 AM

 

[ - ]

whatever. You fucking love it.

Are you going to tell me, or what?

 3: 00 AM

 

[Private]

Is it really that hard to guess?

 3: 00 AM

 

[ - ]

No, it’s just running you around in circles is easier than considering my life at the moment.

nothing makes sense anymore, you more than anything!

So I guess what I am saying is… if by any chance you have an Irish accent it would make my life a lot more simple.

3: 06 AM

 

[Private]

Ay, if only we had met fifteen years ago,

I had enough curls make a fair maiden blush.

3: 12 AM

 

[ - ]

you gotta be fucking me over right now.

I know you are. o_o

 3: 12 AM

 

[Private]

On the contrary lass, I wish I was.

;)

3: 13 AM

 

[ - ]

OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD

I am legit screaming right now

My next door neighbor just hit FUCKING the wall  xDDD

3: 15 AM

 

[Private]

Why stop there? Name a place and time, muffin <3

3: 16 AM

 

[ - ]

Oh boy.

I am not your prostitute, pal

 3: 18 AM

 

[Private]

I never said I was going to pay you.

  3: 18 AM

 

[ - ]

Lol, and that makes everything so much better... jeez

maybe I should be making you buy me dinner first.

3: 19 AM

 

[Private]

It’s a little late for dinner.

Dessert?

3: 20 AM

 

[ - ]

You are being serious about this, aren’t you?

3: 20 AM

 

[Private]

Deadly.

 3: 20 AM

 

[ - ]

Well, my bedroom window is unlocked… if you can find it.

3: 21 AM

 

[Private]

Hint?

3: 21 AM

 

[ - ]

Guess the color my panties and I’ll tell you the street.

 3: 23 AM

 

[Private]

Pink.

 3: 26 AM

 

[ - ]

wrong. pity.

3: 26 AM

 

[Private]

???

3: 27 AM

 

[ - ]

Who says I am wearing any at all…

 3: 27 AM

 

[Private]

You! For making me answer a stupid fucking question.

You pantieless bitch.

3: 28 AM

 

[ - ]

Someone’s grouchy tonight.

Where’s the strangest place you’ve ever done it?

  3: 40 AM

 

[Private]

A hearse.

 3: 41 AM

 

[ - ]

Oh, baby,

don’t come a’knocking, cause this body’s rockin.

xD

 3: 42 AM

 

[Private]

Not like that!

It was… a strange job.

 3: 43 AM

 

[ - ]

Does it ever bother you?

Your job, I mean

  3: 43 AM

 

[Private]

No

3: 43 AM

 

[ - ]

Not even at the beginning?

 3: 45 AM

 

[ - ]

I am sorry, I shouldn’t pry.

It’s none of my business

  3: 53 AM

 

[Private]

That would be wise, muffin.

Your strangest place?

  3: 55 AM

 

[ - ]

church confessional booth

….

..Forgive me father for i have sinned...

4: 01 AM

 

[Private]

I have no words.

\--None--

 4: 04 AM

 

[ - ]

Welp. I am kidding anyway

I am not that kinky :(

4: 04 AM

 

[Private]

Yet.

4: 04 AM

 

[ - ]

That’s rather optimistic for a man who doesn’t know what street I live in.

-

You know, maybe you have already met me and you just don’t know it.

4: 05 AM

 

[Private]

Curious thought.

Perhaps you are correct, though I never have met someone quite like you.

No, maybe one other.

 4: 07 AM

 

[ - ]

One other huh?

Do tell…

  4: 10 AM

 

[Private]

There’s not much to tell.

  4: 11 AM

 

[ - ]

You wouldn’t have brought it up if there wasn’t!

So shall I ask again?  do tell.

  4: 12 AM

 

[Private]

I can’t…

4: 15 AM

 

[ - ]

Please?

4: 15 AM

 

[Private]

Ugh. She’s as sharp a knife and just as dangerous

I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who could drive me wilder.

 4: 22 AM

 

[ - ]

In a good way, right?

 4: 22 AM

 

[Private]

Like you have no idea.

 4: 23 AM

 

[ - ]

So?? Ask her out on a date..

 4: 24 AM

 

[Private]

Just to break her heart?

I am a bad man sweetheart, but I am not a monster.

 4: 27 AM

 

 

* * *

 

 

Was it so crazy to say how quickly all of a sudden the time finally sunk in, perhaps being this tired had numbed the ache? or was it the aching sensation in your hearts of hearts that you that had you seeing the truth?

You knew, he was talking about you.

 

He just didn’t know it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

`

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear sometimes these little chapters where Zsasz has to flirt are harder than thousands of words.  
> I CAN'T FLIRT IN REAL LIFE, LITTLE ALONE IN FICTION. #REALLIFESTRUGGLES#
> 
> Yet, I have an inkling of a clue that Victor solely uses his 'smoothness' rather than typical flirtatious gestures. 
> 
> ANYWAY.
> 
> I'd like to thank everyone who reads. <3 Because I sure as hell never pictured this story to ever go this far.  
> BUT VICTOR DESERVES LOVE TOO. ♥♥♥  
> Even if it envolves a sh!t ton of texting. XD


	26. The sister I never wanted

 

 

The soft pitter-patter of rain, birds and the sun slowly breaking through the clouds was nothing but utter bliss to wake your tiring eyes, lulled softly from your moderately expensive polyester sheets that stuck to your back like stage five clinger boyfriend with _‘commitment’_ issues.

Yes, today.

You could feel it already, it was going to be a good day.

Until you heard the door bang, once - twice - _thrice..._

Followed by the bells of hell ringing in tune, or otherwise called your phone accidentally far too close to your face after unintentionally falling asleep next to it last night.

_It was Sofia._

That sister you almost forgot you had. Well, you could have, but she was physically trying to tear your door down if you didn’t drag your ass out bed five minutes ago.

_I’ll huff and I'll puff and blow your giant d----_

“Alright, alright!” You yawned taking one step at a time. Your eyes were still half shut and you were fairly sure your hair was not fit to entertain unless your name was _‘Metho the drug addled clown.’_

“Please don’t tell me you were still asleep.” Where Sofia’s first words when you managed to open the door.

The ungrateful little - you swallowed your words. “Good morning to you too.”

“It’s afternoon.”

That explained a lot.

Although it didn't explain the expression she gave you when she saw your home for the first time, now that you thought about this, it was fairly similar to a lot of other people's first reactions.

“What is it now?” _‘I am not a hoarder’_ is what you wanted to say. _‘I just collect priceless objects.’_ priceless because they had no price, but whatever, it sounded far more classy.

“Nothing...” Sofia was hiding her true intention as always, looking about clueless, “I just expected you to have more paintings than - uh, mhm posters?”

Yes, let us just mention the giant dork in the room. “Ah, right.” You tsked your tongue with a click. “I have more actually, but I keep my Loki and Kylo posters in my bedroom.”

It was pure sarcasm that came streaming out of your mouth, though Sofia was only taken back by one thing. “Your bedroom? Like the place you sleep?”

Yes, that room. There is only one. “Yeah, nothing turns me on faster than a man who wears too much black and has family issues.”

_No family means no in-laws._

Though that statement seemed harder for her to swallow those last few guys she dated, well, one can assume.

“So why did you really come here, sister? I am guessing it wasn’t for my famous Saturday skittle pancakes, my secret ingredient is sarcasm, a pinch of salt and shit ton of type two diabetes.” Ah, too bad Victor stayed over for breakfast, he would have loved those.

“What? No. Can’t you be serious for one minute?!”

Yes, but the real answer is why?

“I guess.” You took a seat. “Sorry?”

Sofia sighed pulling up her bag onto the table, a pretty little pouch embroidered in daisy’s, butterflies and lace; which probably cost more than your whole kitchen. “Daddy is having a birthday party next week at the mansion. Everyone is invited to come, which means you too.”

She almost said that like; ‘Unfortunately that also means you as well.’

And yet, family gatherings were never your forte.

“I dunno, I mean - I think about it?” An invitation was slid towards you, Ivory envelope, not forgetting horrible flashbacks.

Sofia glanced at you daring you to object. “This isn’t a choice, it’s dad’s birthday.”

Be it as it may, going to parties were so - eh… “Will there be Alcohol?”

“I suppose?”

Will you have to pour it? Hopefully not.

“I guess I could go…” You were really trying to bite your tongue now more than ever. “As long as there is free food and somewhere I can hide.” Oh no, dress code etiquette's. “You’re not going to force me into a dress are you?” Was that even a question, of course, she was.

“Yes.”

Dammit.

These people are trying to kill you.

~ buzz ~

Shit.

[Private]  
I assume you fell asleep last night.  
12: 05 PM

  
Sofia gave you an awful stare the minute you flipped your phone open, then again it’s not like she had never read your text messages before.

[ - ]  
yup.  
What can I say, you were boring  
12: 06 PM

“Are you done?”

You raised a finger in reply.

[ - ]  
just kidding >:D  
12: 06 PM

  
“Now I am.” For now, considering how talkative he was last night.

“Is this what you typically do on your days off, just sit here in your pyjamas texting people?” Sofia almost said that like it was a bad thing.

“Sometimes.” You shrugged, “Other times I draw or read things on the internet that just leave me crying or questioning my sexuality, the usual shit.”

While your sister snarled in the background your phone buzzed again.

  
[Private]  
One day little girl, I am going to teach you to respect your superiors.  
12: 08 PM

Oh really, you almost scoffed out loud, until you remembered Sofia was only a meter away.

  
[ - ]  
Yeah, but what are you gonna do about it punk?  
12: 09 PM

  
You slapped the lid shut and looked back up at Sofia. “Do you want - breakfast?”

She shook her head and started to stand, grabbing her bag and swinging it over her shoulder. “No thank you, and it’s afternoon.” She shook her head. “You should probably get dressed too, crackhead.”

Ugh. It was starting to be hard to remember what it used to be like not having this sister in your life.

“I love you too!” You called as your front door slammed with a bang that sounded more like thunder the way everything shook in the house.

  
[Private]  
Do you know the street that the Gotham mall is on? (I can’t remember what it’s called)  
12: 12 PM

Odd question, you thought to yourself.

[ - ]  
Uhm. The one that blew up?  
12: 12 PM

  
[Private]  
No, the other one.  
The one that is opposite that little bookstore.  
12: 12 PM

[ - ]  
OH! I love that bookstore  
the old lady in there always yells at me for everything though  
12: 13 PM

  
[Private]  
She yells at everyone.  
But that’s not the point, there’s a cafe next to it -  
12: 13 PM

  
What was he getting at?

[ - ]  
and???!?  
12: 14 PM

[Private]  
Be there at 1: 30 PM  
Or else.  
12: 15 PM

Was that a threat?! That bastard.

  
[ - ]  
Or what exactly?!  
12: 23 PM

  
It was highly likely he was all just empty threats.

  
[Private]  
Or I’ll run your phone number through the system,  
get your phone bill, find your address and kick down your front door.  
12: 24 PM

  
Seriously, what the fuck?

  
[ - ]  
You wouldn’t do that.  
12: 24 PM

  
[Private]  
Don’t tempt me.  
1: 30 PM sharp.  
12: 24 PM

  
Well, fuck.

 

 

 

 

 

 

`

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter isn't the last. XD
> 
> There'll be a few more yet...


	27. Please, forgive me father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor Zsasz was looking at you like he had just won a Golden ticket to Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory.
> 
> And you were the chocolate factory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM NOT LATE, YOU ARE.
> 
>  

 

 

 

Victor’s teacup was nearly empty by the time he took the final sip, clunking softly as it approached the matching black saucer. Sitting by himself, his where eyes fastened to a novel, despite his thought being absent, far away beyond the words that were printed in black ink.

Moments rolled past in flashes amongst the soothing sounds of rain drenching down outside along the busy streets. It was a typical afternoon in Gotham, dark, bleak and stormy, just the way he favored.

Inside, despite, even under the lighting and surroundings, Victor felt entirely transparent, not because people didn’t notice him, they all did. However, they all stepped around him, eyes absent, they would all sooner pretend he didn’t exist rather than to sit idly in terror.

There was only a small quantity of people in this town weren’t terrified to be in his proximity.

He questioned long and hard if the girl he had met would be just as skittish. It wouldn't be much of a stretch to believe he might have inadvertently murdered someone she might have known at one point or another, and names often parted his memory.

It was only the numbers he desired.

But the more Victor pondered on it, the deeper he reflected on the little theories about who she is; _What color were her eyes, did her knees tremble when upset, did she scrunch up her nose when flustered, would she bite her lip when aroused?_

Still, utmost of all he ached to know… _is she be afraid?_

Inside his head, Victor assumed he could read people quite well, a single face could tell a dozen stories, but so could their clothes, the way they walked, or even the way they held themselves amongst a crowd. Therefore Victor believed he would notice his girl straight away, that even in a place like this, whoever she was he would know the second she stepped in and laid eyes upon hers.

 

_Little did he know just how wrong he was._

 

“Look I don’t know what your problem is lady - this a cafe not a freaking five star restaurant, so if you don’t mind -” A pair of voices were heard arguing, forcing Victor to directed his sites towards the front door; accompanied by some brash offbeat footsteps as if someone was in a flustered rush to be somewhere.

**_“Oh look, my dear sweet, devoted husband!”_ **

Before he could even process what going on a lady had thrown herself into the seat in front of him. Messy hair, deep plum lipstick, skirt, stockings, boots… _fuck_.

Smirking those dark lips could only get her so far. “Isn’t that right _smoochums?”_

Victor shook his head and went along with the act, “Of course, _sausage_.” He turned his gaze to the blonde waiter that most definitely trying to escort this young lady out of the premises, not that Zsasz exactly blamed them for the cause.

“Sir…” The light haired waitress was now looking down at him, just a tad too neurotic - but this whole situation was just a little amusing, however how much he actually found this girl drop dead frustrating, maybe it was just nice to see her pissing someone else off for a change.

She was now shaking her palm in the air, “What, you don’t believe me?” she rebutted like the waitress obviously doubted their fake relationship, _“I used to work for Helpline.”_

She turned back to Victor winked across the table.

_It would be so easy to strangle the life out of this girl._

“Gosh, I could use a drink.” In the thirty seconds, she had been here, Victor was surprised by how much self-restraint he actually had. All while he watched the girl argue with the waitress.

“Er I just need - something - uh, strong... Really really strong…” Tapping her fingers, Victor noted she was very nervous, that and the all too sudden speech impairment. “Do you have _rum?”_

“Ma'am there’s a menu-”

“Oh, shi-- _schnitzels”_ She stopped herself from swearing, gasping and covering her mouth looking down at the menu. “There’s so many - types of tea… holy cow.” She gulped flipping it over, then did it again.

The girl swallowed and blinked her thick eyelashes, a hand to her forehead. “You know that tea - the one you can buy from the supermarket? - the one that's cheap and _black…_ ”

Victor sighed, he was losing brain cells just listening to her mumble on like a headless chicken. _“Black tea.”_ He answered.

She argued back with a snap. “Yeah, I know it’s black - I just said that… I was asking what it was called.” She rolled her eyes and shuffled into her seat.

Zsasz palmed his face, he was too old and tired for this shit. “You.” He pointed to the waitress. “Black tea - two cups. _NOW.”_

Half the people jumped in the cafe on the last sound, besides the girl in front of him, who more or less looked like she was about to have a heart attack.

 _“Helpline?”_ He gaped at her, wide eyes and completely serious. _“Really?”_

The girl shrugged her shoulders, talking so fast he could hardly process it. “Look, I dunno - I was thinking on the spot and well, as loving so ‘called’ wife you should be fully aware that what you do is wrong, very - er” she swallowed, “wrong.”

A hand reached over and cupped his own. “There are people out there that _love_ you, Victor.” She coughed. “I mean - _maybe.”_

Victor removed her hand, picking it up and dropping it to the side. “Thank you for the insight, but as we speak I am feeling the urge…”

_“The urge for redemption?”_

_“No the urge slit your throat and play with your blood.”_

She scrunched up her face, resting her chin on her fist against the table. “Okay wow, why is everyone is so freaking hostile today?” She said like she didn’t know. “That blonde lady at the front didn’t even want to let me in - how rude!”

Victor shook his head, obviously, she had no idea, so he gave her a subtle hit looking down at her shirt, so she could follow his eyes to the problem.

“What?” She looked down. “Why are you looking at my boobs?” her jaw opened. “Oh shit!”

“More like ‘fuck me’ would be the better saying.” Victor made a snide comment towards her black t-shirt with the same large inscription in bold lettering on the front.

“I didn’t - I didn’t - _oh no_ \- I was in such a rush - then -- _shit!”_ She looked like she was about to tear her hair out until Victor recognized what she was doing, pulling at the bottom of her shirt until…

“What are you doing?!” Victor looked and away, though a part of him was still watching as this girl had pulled her shirt up and off in the middle of the cafe and start folding it inside out.

Her bra was _lacey_ and had skulls on it.

He’d be lying if said it didn’t make him feel hot and twitchy under the table.

Victor gulped and clenched his jaw, the only thing he could think of now was if the bra came in a matching set... But somehow he endured swallowing his own words. “Are you done?”

“Oh my god, Victor.” She disapproved, flicking her hair and straightening out her now inside-out shirt. “You saw a bra, big whoopee do.”

The tea and waitress came back before he could react.

“Uh.” The ladies hands trembled as she placed down the pot. “H- he-re you go _Mr. and Ms. Zzsassz…”_

Victor coughed and almost gagged upon hearing that, the girl on the side, however, was laughing up a storm, cheeks blazing bright scarlet.

The waitress abandoned everything and hurried away.

“Are you done?!” Victor said again, in a hushed half whisper yell.

Falcone’s girl, swallowed sat up and wiped her eye with her thumb. _“Ms. Zsasz.”_ She repeated and laughed again. “Okay, okay… I’ll stop.” she covered her lips, eyes watering.

This was driving Victor insane. “Why are you even here?” Because it definitely wasn’t for giving him uncomfortable striptease in a public cafe.

She swallowed and swiped her hair out of her face, and looked towards Victor then back to the exit.

“It’s hard to explain Victor, you wouldn’t understand…” Her hand gently grabbed a teacup from across the table and dunked in the bag. “It’s… just complicated and I don’t exactly know what I am doing or -” She breathed in slow, shaking a sachet of sugar before tearing it open from the corner and lastly stirring her tea she looked down into it, smacking her lips together. “I don’t know what I am doing with my life anymore -”

What was he supposed to say to that?

He sat there blank, turning once to look over his shoulder - was his girl not going to come? Had she really stood him up? Now he was just stuck here with this one.

The girl licked her lips and drank from her teacup. At least for once, it seemed like she wasn’t going to quarrel any longer, she just looked a little sad if anything, unless it was perhaps just the stress from before finally having its repercussions.

When her cup settled on the table, she took a long much-needed breath and blinked her eyes. “So then… what were you reading when I first came in?”

“Nothing.”

She rolled her eyes and grabbed the book from the side and give a flash of a sly smirk. “The Interview with a Vampire, huh? Nice choice.”

Victor snatched the book back and placed it to the pocket of his coat. “Don’t you have someone else to bother?”

She looked back over at the door, “Apparently not.” seeming a little lost as she sighed shortly after, “I guess the rumors are true about you Victor after all.” she said out of nowhere making him wonder what she was now babbling on about.

_“What rumors?”_

“Well I find you here in this cafe and the word is on the street _that you like to eat out a lot_.” She pinched her brows and looked to the side. “Wait... oh god.”

“Princess, please for the love of fuck, close your mouth.”

A single hand clasped her face. “Maybe you should..” he heard a whisper under her breath.

Victor had almost enough of her smart mouth and bratty attitude. “Keep going little girl, and I’ll take you out back.”

That got a reaction out of her. “Or what Victor? I am not scared of you, I never have been and I never will.”

Oh yeah, he thought. That was only because of Falcone’s special favors and such, if it wasn’t for Falcone he would have bent ever over a table three weeks ago and spanked her till her ass was bright red for that mouth she had.

“If we do this there’s going back, sweetheart.” He cooed darkly. _“Once we cross that line, you’ll never see me again without those knees of yours trembling.”_

 

He didn’t know what she would say after that.

But what she did say, was the last thing he anticipated.

 

Leaning forward she smirked that wicked smile that made his heart beat heavy with adrenaline.

 

_“Or perhaps it will be the other way around.”_

 

*******

 

 

You knew it was a poor decision to go down this path. There was never any doubt by now that whatever Victor and you had, that little heated spark that drove each other wild would only lead to physical or mental destruction.

You knew all this and you still urged him on a little further every time.

Was it possible you'd never get over that crush that started ages ago? That no matter what he said, in the end, you found no reason to care.

He was a dick. That was the truth.

And yes most people mortified in his presence.

He was a killer. A mass murderer.

Though when around him, you never felt in danger. But more than that, you never felt he wanted to physically hurt you.

Maybe it was all in your head. Maybe you were just as mad to think there was an actual person behind the shadow he pretended to be.

“Get here.” Victor stood at the end of the table, one finger arched in hopes of signaling you over just a little closer.

You swallowed and shifted forward. His eyes looked hungry. “Don't you…” biting down your cheek you found the words hard to say. It ached to this day, even know you weren't sure why. “Have a girlfriend.. or something?”

Wasn't there something you were missing here?

“No princess.” He said almost bitterly, maybe even slightly hurt - yet quite puzzling. “I am afraid I don’t have the luxury of such sentiments, now get here before I throw you over my shoulder.”

_Wow._

 

“Alright.” you shrugged, you didn’t mind being carried, half of you just wanted to see how strong he actually was, “Carry me then.”

As he said, his threat was full of promises. Victor grabbed you by the waist and heaved you over his shoulder like you were nothing but a lifeless dead body.

“Oh shit.” You groaned, almost laughing until Victor stopped by the door to pull out his wallet, grab out some cash and tipped the blonde waitress. “I am taking Ms. Zsasz home, she needs to take a nap.”

 

 

_Show off._

 

 

 

.

.

 

 

 

_**One** _

 

_**Two** _

 

_**Three** _

 

You counted slowly, trying to catch your breath. You didn’t want to surrender even if he had you rammed and pinned against the wall, legs locked, with his damned gloved fingers in your hair, things were getting messy.

“Take them off.” you breathed rasping, heart pounding as much as you fucking hated him, a part of you fucking desired him in equal amount.

The tension shifted, his hands well. A single finger ran down your lips finally resting on the bottom where he paused and the smell of leather was left lingering under your senses. “Bite.” It was all you need hear, that little sign of approval had your teeth pulling his glove from his hand.

One glove fell to the ground.

The other hand was still busy trying to get your front door open, it seemed Victor had a lot of things, and yet patience seemed like one exception.

Click, finally, the door came swinging open.

His hands didn’t leave your thighs, yours on around his neck. “Where?” he asked kicking the door shut, you could barely catch your breath.

Well, you sure as hell didn’t want him seeing your bedroom in the rushed state you left it in.

“Here, and stop being a bitch and kiss me already.” on the word he had dropped you slowly from his arms, dropping onto your sofa with an oomph. Your arms grabbed his shoulders supporting yourself as you swung one knee over each side of him, straddling yourself firmly on his lap, chest to chest, face to face.

Victor grabbed your hair with his bare hand, pulling your head in line with ravenous eyes. “Can’t you fucking wait?” That was rich coming from him. “Put your arms up, now.”

Now that was an order you could obey.

“Yes, Sir.” You cooed lifting your arms, unable to restrain from chewing your lip. One bare hand ran along your skin, freezing to the touch as slowly hoisted your shirt over your head and arms.

“Look at me.” He moved your hair from your face, swiping the loose strands from your eyes, your shirt was still in his hand, while the other pinched your chin.

You breathed slowly, almost bare chested. “What on earth are you doing?”

“Shush.” he silenced you as he brought your shirt up to your face and start wiping away at your lips, enough to make you giggle unintentionally. “Are you that afraid of my lipstick, Mr. Zsasz?”

“It’s hot.” he cocked his head, throwing your shirt to the floor, his bare hand slowly tracing up the grooves of your back, sending shivers up your spine. “But not worth the hassle, a lot like you princess.”

You dropped your jaw speechless. Flattening out your palm you went to strike him on the cheek, yet he grabbed your wrist just in time. Tsk'ing his tongue all the while he shook his head playfully. “Hit me once shame on you sweetheart, hit me twice shame on me.” And like that he flipped you over onto your back with a thump, head against the armrest as Victor slunk between your legs, starting to pull your boots off one at a time.

“Are you right there, just taking all my clothes?” you narrowed your eyes down at Victor as the last boot came sliding off. “The last thing I need is you kicking me with your two left feet, so yup.”

“Yeah well, I am half undressed and you’re still in a full fucking suit.” You raised a brow, just expecting him to be just a more little forward.

He glared towards you, almost with cheek “When did I ever say I was fair, little girl?”

Ugh, you leaned your head back and looked at the ceiling, closing your eyes, exhausted, stressed and this isn’t exactly how you planned to spend today, being Victor Zsasz’s plaything was the least of them; not that you complaining.

Sudden warmth against your neck lulled your eyes open, wet - ** _wet_ ** \- wet, you almost kicked your leg up to the strange unholy feeling.

Lips?

Holy shit. Your heart was pounding like a drum on an 80’s power ballad. “Vic-tor.” you gasped pathetically, “Shhh,” he whispered, only making your heart quicken till you felt the warm travel down your body, your neck, your collar bones, right down to your sternum where the heat finally stopped.

Your poor heart was going to give out.

“Breathe.” Victor reminded you, “I am into a lot of things princess, _but necrophilia isn’t one of them.”_

_Oh god._

_Oh dear._

You could feel a hand traveling up your thigh… oh god… you chewed down on your lip before you could gasp.

And yet he stopped suddenly with a huge coy smile on his face. What was his deal?

Your frown deepened and you leaned forward “What?”

_Victor Zsasz was looking at you like he had just won a golden ticket to Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory._

_And you were the chocolate factory._

“What?” You repeated.

His hand was stalled on your upper inner thigh, you could feel his fingers tapping away at your skin. He raised a brow at you and tilted his head. “Garter belts, princess?” His pinched the strap to your pantyhose and pulled it back like he was playing a harp, making the elastic snap back and hit the soft flesh of your thigh, stinging hard.

“Ouch, Victor don’t be a dick - that hurt.” You cringed.

He only smirked back licking his lips. “Your pain is my pleasure,” he said, doing it again but this time hard enough to make you lunge forward with a shudder.

“Let’s keep those on, shall we?”

Fuck, Victor was an evil bastard.

Lips pressed once again pressed against your sternum, hot, warm, wet, you almost gasped again, until he stopped.

Again.

Victor shuffled and squinted his eyes. “Wait, why are you wearing all this kinky lingerie?”

What.

You blinked your eyes. You had almost forgotten about this morning, the messages, him, the fact that he never came - oh, shit - what if he came to your door and saw you like this - with fucking Victor Zsasz half naked and his lips all over you?

Oh crap.

You shot up, heart pounding. “Uhm. no reason.” you looked back at the door, oh dear.

Victor turned his head to the side. He knew you were lying. “Were you -” he swallowed, sitting up, suddenly looking far more uncomfortable then you had ever seen. “On a fucking date?”

Oh shit. Shit. shit. “No…” you voice trembled. You weren’t - because - because - were you? Fuck, you didn't even know.

“Then why do I get the impression you’re lying straight to my face?” He almost spat down at you, wide eyed and the vein his forehead almost bulging thick.

“Because you’re a fucking fruitcake, Victor.” It sort of just came out of your mouth without even thinking.

In the background, you could hear a buzzing going off, now that the room was silent.

How long had your phone been ringing?

Shit.

Victor turned his head, peering off into the distance. “Sit here - don’t move.”

Was he going to get your phone?

What if it was your friend?

Oh no.

“Victor p-p-please.”

He glared back at you on the sofa, “Don’t fucking move.”

Victor grabbed your phone off the kitchen counter and threw it onto your lap. “Answer it.”

“What?” No, you couldn’t - not with Victor here!

You liked your friend, yes, but you liked, ‘liked’ Victor - and what if it was Wendell?! What would you do then?!

How would Victor recact, surely he wouldn't harm his friend right? You were so fucking dead.

“Answer it, NOW.”

You closed your eyes, breathing slowly. Flipping the phone open you could feel your heart skip a beat.

“Hello.”

That voice.

That godforsaken voice.

You opened your eyes and dropped the phone from your ear.

You were in a ton of shit. “Victor.” You gulped - hand outstretched, fingers trembling.

**“It’s for you.”**

  
~

 

You couldn’t say what was on his mind when you said it, perhaps even he had no idea - but everything that you knew you would have just assumed someone would have told him.

Soft fingers hovered over your own as he took the phone from your hand. Pausing he looked at you blankly and answered bluntly without any sort of disregard for who it may have been “What?!”

Perhaps all this time Victor assumed he was at the top of the food chain, when in fact, the great and powerful Mr. Victor Zsasz may have just for the first time ever bitten off far more than he could chew.

“Boss?!”

That was the face of a man who knew he was in deep shit.

“What do you mean?!” Victor almost half yelled, you had seen a lot of sides to Victor, but today you were seeing so many you never thought existed.

He lowered the phone for a second, covering up the speaker with his hand. “DAUGHTER?” He mouthed towards you, soundless yet loud at the same time.

You shrugged your shoulders as placed it back at his ear. “How many children do you fucking have?!”

Oh, dear Victor… you’re sweet Victor…

His face turned sullen, red… twisting his heels, he turned and looked down. “Er - sorry?”

“Right.”

He glared back at you. “No.” Victor scrunched his face up. “I would never - **_never_** \- think of touching your - your... _daughter.”_

 

_Fucking lies._

 

He had his lips and hand up your skirt five minutes ago, ready to impregnate you with his demon spawn.

 

_That was a terrible thought._

 

“Boss - hear me out, you know I would never cross you.”

This wasn’t good.

“I’ve been there since the beginning - just give me another chance. You know I would never intentionally cause harm.”

Victor keeps talking.

You sink into the sofa, closing your eyes and putting your shirt back on over your head.

When you finally hear your phone snap shut you your stomach turns to knots.

“Daughter, seriously?!” You hear Victor yell, his dress shoes click against the floorboards pacing hard. “Fuck - fuck, fuck!”  
You shut your eyes. He’s mad.

Mad at you.

And it hurts.

It really hurts.

“Aren’t you going to say something, anything?!” Victor yelled your way.

Slumping forward, you covered your face with your hands. It was all too much, the pain, his rage, somehow it was all too much and now a months worth of stress had finally hit it’s peak all at once, spilling over the edge and breaking down any walls that used to hold everything back.

“I - I can’t -” was all you managed to come up with.

“Can’t what?” He roared back, “Tell the truth? Tell me anything for fuck sake?”

“I didn't mean too -” what were you going to say? I didn't mean cause a rift in your life? I didn't mean to bring into this and cause so much trouble? That you didn't intend to be so pathetic and fall for a guy who would never love you. . .

“Mean to what - screw everything up? Well, princess, you did a damn good job of it!”

You breathed in slow feeling it trembles out of your lips upon existing. “I am sorry, okay?!” it was all coming out, there was no stopping it now, you felt broken - everything you did felt pointless.

“Yes I screwed up everything, is that what you want to hear Victor? It’s all that I ever seem to do, therefore why is it such big fucking surprise? I met some guy who says he’s my dad - and yeah, some part of me what’s run away from the idea, then another part of me is scared to be alone! I meet someone else - who I assumed was huge jerk… but I dunno, a part of him made me happy, a part of me enjoyed the way he made me feel. So, maybe I was naive to think even he cared about me, but obviously, I was wrong it doesn’t have the decency to even show up.”

You could feel tears pooling down your cheeks, there was no stopping it.

Victor hovered you, you didn’t know what he would say, half you just expected him to slam the door in your face, but instead, he persisted in your presence.

“W-what are you talking about?”

“I don’t know -” you breathed in, voice rasping, “I don’t - don’t fucking know anymore.”

Warmth, touched the side your cheek, a palm, soft, gentle. It raised your face up. Victor was crouching in front of you, gazing at you like he never had, it was like he was seeing for the first time.

He was thinking up a storm inside of that head of his, he knew something, something you didn’t. His thumb brushed a single tear from your cheek.

He knew something.

Something.

“Victor.” his hand dropped and stood up, swallowing, he rubbed the back of his neck. He looked so confused, looking back at you then away.

“I should - “ It was like he didn’t know what to say like maybe he felt lost too. “I should - go.”

Your heart pounded, ached, throbbed, you didn’t want him to go, not now, not ever. “Victor please - please, I think - I think - I - I -”  
  
“Don’t say it.”

 

*******

  
_Her voice_

 

_Her eyes_

 

_Her tears_

 

_Her heart_

  
_He heard it all break._

 

One after the another.

“Don’t say it.” He repeated in his head. Over and over.

His fingers dropped his car keys, hands quivering, fingers trembling, shaking, _why was he shaking?_

 

_Don’t say it._

 

_Don’t say it._

 

_Don’t say it._

 

_Don’t say it._

 

_Don’t say it._

 

 

 

 

_`_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Because Victor Zsasz deserves his own 1980's power ballad. 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Cw1ng75KP0
> 
> Straight from the...heart.
> 
> *chuckles*
> 
>  


	28. High - hopes

 

 

 

His head pounded.

Everything sounded so loud, the lights so fucking bright.

Penguin. He could hear his fingers tapping away on his desk, or perhaps it was a pen, a cane?

“Hey, boss.” He tried to duck past his office quickly before the bird had a chance to get up, he knew already he wasn’t going to be pleased, yet Victor couldn’t give a legit fuck at the present time.

 

_Too late._

 

“Hey?!” Penguin whined with one of his famous bratty barks, “Hey, That’s all?”

Victor turned on the ball of his heels, pushing his oval shades up his nose. Oswald was standing there in a flustered rage, black hair coiffed, nostrils flared to the point his ivory skin was shade rosy pink. “Mhm,” Victor mumbled without care and maybe just a little too much sass for his own sake. “Did I miss something? Let me guess.” he tilted his head to the side, raising one finger. “It was your birthday!” Finally, he smiled, just a tad too wide.

_Too bad he didn’t get Cobblepot a gift, A giant plastic dick, so he can take the words ‘Go fuck yourself,’ a little more seriously; those come in purple right?_

“No, Victor. WORK. I was under the impression you took your job seriously! You can’t just show up whenever you want and take days off!”

Days? He must have been far more out of it then he realized.

However, he made a sarcastic frown as his reply. “Boo hoo,”

 

Oswald by that point was looking a little hot under the collar, the little man was at least a head smaller, and looked like he was about to use that cane for more purposes than just walking.

“Hold on.” Oswald lifted his chin, tilting his head, nose scrunched up. “Why are you wearing sunglasses?”

_Ugh._

 

“Are you high?!”

Victor clenched his palms, flexing his fingers in and out. “No, no….” He cooed, “I just woke up this morning and decided to be a douchebag for the day. - YES, I am high!” ...well, he tilted his head to the side, pinching his fingers. “A little, still sleeping it off. I am hungry - good talk.”

Victor heard his name being called as he walked off.

 

~

 

Bread

Butter

Cheese

Baloney

 

_More cheese_

 

Victor forced the two slices of bread down with a squeeze of his hand, cutting it in half. Turning around for two seconds to place the knife away.

“Oh, shit - Zsasz, man!”

 

Wendell. Ugh.

Worse, he had his sandwich…

His fingers tightened, drawing into his coat like a flash to raise one his twin guns “ _Drop_ the baloney sandwich.”

Wendell had already taken a single bite, the greedy bastard dropped it, swallowing thickly at the site of the silver pistol. “Jeez man, can’t we share?”

The pale suited man shook his head, “I don’t share my sandwiches.” He replied pulling the plate away, looking down at the disgusting half nibbled bite, gross.

“What’s with the glass-” Wendell turned his head like he didn’t have to finish. “Oh man, don’t tell me you’re not  _still_ -”

At least no one could tell when Victor rolled his eyes. “Still?” he pulled at the keyword, the last few days were nothing more than an odd blur in the back of his head.

“You don’t remember?” Wendell said that like it was a bad thing, “Nobody could find you anywhere, the girls and I searched everywhere - the clubs - your parent's old house - your bubbie.”

Victor raised a palm to stop him, _“You harassed my grandmother?!”_

“Nuh, nuh man.” Wendell licked his lips causally. “We sent Tiff, she came back with cake - it was _awesome_.”

Wendell and his girls ate his grandmother's cake without him?   _the audacity._

Lucky, Zsasz was feeling far too chilled out to stab Wendell in the jugular and create an indoor water fountain.

“I believe you were going to tell me something I actually give a fuck about - please get on with it.” Victor took a bite of his sandwich.

“Well, as I was sayin’ -” Wendell continued on, not parting his hungry eyes off the sandwich, “We - I, was looking for you. Anyway, I got a call from a contact saying you were staying at your safehouse in the city. And oh shit man, you were totally out of it. You kept talking in fucking rhymes.”

 

_Well, hot damn._

 

“Like dude, seriously, what’s going on? I haven’t seen you this fucked up since they took away the two for one sale at Krispy Kreme, man… it breaks my heart.”

“Wendell.” Victor nags, in is own tone that says _‘Don’t go there.’_

“Look, you know I love ya’ man, but you kept saying some weird -- Weird, shit about Falcone -” He sucked at his teeth, dancing around his words. “If are you into _special sauce_ , I ain’t gonna be the one to judge.”

All of a sudden Victor’s sandwich had seemed to have taken the wrong turn, causing him to gag with a violent cough.

 

_Did this fool actually think he was into Carmine Falcone?!_

 

“Wendell.” Victor swallowed, placing down his plate.

The halfwit looked at him, those large brown eyes so curious… “Carmine is the problem, not the _cause_.”

“The cause? - Falcone…. F-” Wendell’s eyes rolled to the side. “Sofia? Oh no - no… no… Victor, if you tap dat shit, Falcone will personally cut y’all balls off then bronze those fuckers and turn them into a fucking cuckoo clock!” Wendell stopped to laugh, _“cuckoo cock.”_

 

However, Victor didn’t find the joke nearly as amusing. “That might be the most creative idea you’ve ever had, _congratulations.”_

“All jokes aside Zsasz, are you fucking insane?!”

_Did he really need to ask that? That ship had already sailed a long time ago._

 

Victor let his glasses slide down his nose so he could give Wendell the cold stare he needed. “Yes.”

“Okay, bad choice of words - Suicidal?” Wendell licked his lips. “Nope - still not good enough - ah… you get my point, Victor… But I thought you had a thing going with on with - uh… what was her name - miss honey bunny! Yeah, the one with the perky little --”

_He could actually kill him now watching Wendell make a squeezing action with his hands._

“Ah, they were so damn fine… then you had the pretty little waitress! how many ladies do you have racked up on speed dial? What the fuck is goin’ on!”

 

_**One.** One apparently, and that itself was far too much to handle. _

“Why does it matter?!”

 

“Because Sofia is - crazy! - C - R - A - Z - Y.”

“Oh my God.” Victor through his hands in the air. “You can spell, huzzah~!” He breathed in, this was going to be the death of him if Falcone hadn't already cut the breaks of his car. _“NOT THAT DAUGHTER.”_

Wendell was taken back a step. “What?! How many children does he have?!”

“I DON’T KNOW.”

 

“Oh shit! You’re so fucking dead - does he know you’ve been --”

Victor sighed “Yes, Wendell. He knows everything.”

 

**_Well, everything he needed to know - which just so happen didn’t involve the urge to give daddy's little princess her daily dose of vitamin D._ **

 

“Well, condolences motherfucker’ you are so dead, imma have to call your bubbie and tell her to throw on something black.”

_He wished Wendell was wrong, he truly did._

“Hey so now we know your death is pending, can I have your car? - once your six feet under I mean.”

_He couldn’t believe what he was hearing._

 

“No.”

 

“Well, it like ain’t you’re gonna be needing it!” Wendell argued, “What about your _bazooka?_ ”

No, no, no, no, _no…_ Victor couldn’t stand hearing this - it was like Wendell was trying to take his pride and joy away. “Don’t you fucking dare.” Zsasz hissed, “You bury it with me, _understood?!”_

What was he even talking about? Death, seriously? Victor had to take a moment, let everything sink in slowly. Was he about to let everything pass, and just let Falcone do whatever - He respected the man, he was like a father…

But - damn, damn, _damn._

 

He liked this girl.

He liked spending time with her.

He didn’t want it to end… not yet...

 

_Was it too late?_

 

Fuck, Victor palmed his face, thumping his glasses upon the kitchen bench.

This was ridiculous, whatever he was considering - it was why he sought to drown it out, yet liquor didn’t accommodate.

 

It never did.

It only made circumstances worse.

And these ran through his subconscious, strange - stupid - _dangerous_ thoughts.

 

Stupid fatalistic ideas.

The kind of impressions that get you killed - or worse, _annoyingly so_ \- the people around you.

As he much as liked the girl, she was as much as a risk to him as he was to her.

 

There was no denying it.

 

_And yet…_

 

How on earth do you tell a girl… you don’t exactly… well, hate her?

_Was there a word for it?_

_AH, FRUSTRATING_

Victor finally breathed in, he couldn’t do this alone - or more like, he couldn’t see her - HER - not now… “I need a favor.” He raised his eyes to Wendell, Zsasz knew he was going to regret this.

“What? For realz? Ah, if you think for a second -”

 

_Just shut up._

He needed leverage. Sweeten the pot a little. “I’ll pay you.”

Wendell smacked his lips together, crossing his arms. “Money ain't gonna cut it Zsasz,”

Of course it wasn’t, fucking fantastic - Victor already felt robbed hearing that.

“Then, spit it out, what do you want?!”

The way Wendell’s eyes lit up, oh Victor knew he was in for it.

“I want - heh.” his laugh made Zsasz feel nauseous, “Your zsaszettes… for the weekend.”

_What, he couldn’t be fucking serious._

Half of him wanted to scream ‘No’ the other half knew he had no choice. “One day.”

“Awh come on man, I ain't gonna do anything stupid. I am just gonna take em out for the night, maybe take em to a movie - there’s that new horror one out… I heard the gore is like super intense, the girls love that shit.”

Well, If Falcone doesn’t murder him, his girls now will. “One day, twenty four hours - that’s it.”

“Fine, I’ll cut your depressed, skinny, pale ass some slack, give me half of that sandwich and we’ll call it a deal,” Wendell muttered, looking down again at the half he had already nibbled.

 

_It wasn’t like Victor had much choice._

 

He sighed, nodding his head in agreement. “But... if you fuck it up.”

“Yeah, yeah, save me the lecture. Wrap it before I tap it, gotcha.”

 

_Ugh._

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

You didn’t grasp what time it was when your door knocked twice, and by (your) door, it was actually Falcone’s rather large mansion, he had merely offered you a bedroom. And well, his place was massive, therefore you didn’t exactly feel like you were imposing by staying, and something about your own apartment felt unappealing at the current time.

Removing yourself from the warmth of your blankets, you wiped your eyes. You hadn’t slept in what felt like two days, causing your legs to feel like jelly when your feet hit the freezing floor.

At first, you suspected perhaps it was Sofia or even your father coming to see you again, oh how they loved sticking their noses in your business, and yet you dodged the assassin subject whenever it came up. You absolutely had no idea how much you truly liked him until he left, it wouldn’t have troubled this much if you didn’t, you understood that much.

Upon opening your door there was nothing at eye level that you could survey, it was only when the door tapped something in its path you noticed a large object in the way.

 

A box and it was wrapped.

 

Odd.

 

Without question, you picked it up and carried it onto your bed. The wrapping paper was black with an identically dark matte bow, it was pretty and well… _Macabre at the same time._

Pulling the ribbon off slowly, you stripped back the black wrapping to find an equally black box beneath.

_Who would have guessed..._

 

The box was loaded with…

 

Were those…

 

_….They were…_

 

There were Hundreds!!

 

A card was stuck to the top, your name was written in exquisite calligraphy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **_I like you more than I like Cheetos_ **
> 
> **_~ From: You know who._ **
> 
>  

Since when did Voldemort send girls entire boxes of Cheetos?!

 

… Victor…

 

 

 

 

 

`

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that was cheesy. . . 
> 
> Victor doesn't know how to communicate through feelings... He only has enough love in his life for Wendell.


	29. Seven moments in hell

 

 

 

“Because I _like_ him.”

You already knew there was no point in arguing with your sister, she would never see things the way you did. Little alone, see or understand your attraction to a guy you were fairly sure wanted to kill her once or twice. Regardless, you were pretty sure that’s how everyone felt about your sister these days.

Sofia let out a groan, turning on her feet and swishing that long flowing peach gown she had picked out for your father’s party. In all honesty, the whole idea of a party was making you feel violently ill, you didn’t like gatherings before, little alone now with the way things were going, regarding your last talk with your father, and the whole _. ‘I don’t care what you want. You're not seeing Victor Zsasz.’_

But your father's attitude didn’t shock you in the slightest. Though it was never strictly speaking a secret, your father now made the most mortifying face when even bringing up the idea there was something more to Victor than a ruthless killer.

Was it such a crazy idea that you thought Carmine was on good terms with your bald assassin or was that the seed of the problem?

“I seriously don’t understand your appeal to that man,” Sofia ridiculed, her distaste in Victor wasn’t something well concealed.

And you yourself never understood people never seeing the interest in Victor. Yes, he was a dick - But some people just happen to like dick, so yeah, it was kind of peculiar that your sister didn’t see eye to eye with you on this.

“He looks like a death eater, I dig it.” You chuckled in earnest just thinking about it.

Sofia apparently didn’t share your enthusiasm for broody men in black clothing. “You are fully aware he is a serial killer, right?”

You could have almost rolled your eyes to her bold conclusion, “Yes, Sofia. So is our father, my boss, my friends, practically everyone I know has killed someone except for me _\- OH,_ and _you_! How did I forget?!”

She had barely seen twenty three years, and Sofia had already deceived and turned your boss into a cannibal. She may have resembled a gentle angel with delicate features and a silky voice. Still, without a doubt, she was almost as cold anyone could have described Victor, and he merely killed on request.

“I know what he does should bother me - but… it doesn’t.” firmer this time you said it loud enough to make it clear, to her and yourself, “Does it really make me such a bad person for thinking that? Like -” was there really an example you could use in this situation that would make any kind of sense?

“Loki killed tons of people and I’d still totally bang him. Therefore if I said no to Victor, it would just make me a giant hypocrite, now wouldn’t. . .?”

_Probably a poor choice for an example._

Your sisters brows knitted together, licking her lips into a wide girlish grin. Shutting her bedroom door, she strode closer in hopes no one would overhear your now more _‘juicier conversation.’_ “You slept with Zsasz?!”

What… no, no, no, no… Jeez, your sister wasn’t subtle with her choice of words. “Yeah, _tots.”_ you almost coughed with slang, “We did in a cemetery, cause you know he likes death rock and stuff, so we thought it would be hella thrilling - there was also a goat, did I ever mention Victor was _fluent_ in Latin?”

“You’re fucking kidding.” Sofia crossed her arms, could her expression be mistaken for disappointment?

“Me joking?” You let out a high pitch laugh, clenching a hand to your chest. “Never! He also had a heartagram tattooed on his left ass cheek too, super _freaking_ hot.”

“Are you ever serious, _like_ ever?” Your sister almost pleaded.

Yes, that was the truthful answer, but she asked a ridiculous question and even if you had slept Victor, _( if daddy dearest didn’t like to clockblock you every five minutes)…_ well, you wouldn’t tell her about it.

“Sometimes, but it tends to frighten people.”

“No wonder why.” Sofia swayed her head in the same direction as her eyes, “Are you going to try your dress on?”

That ugly turquoise thing in the corner? Fuck no. “Nope, I'll be in my bedroom making no noise and pretending I don't exist,” you quoted back without thought.

All that comment got you was a dress thrown in your face.

After everything, especially that dress Barbara made you wear, gosh, could everyone just chill when it came to styling you like a goddamn doll for just two moments?

You were almost about to throw it back into her wardrobe when something caught your eye, black, flared out at the waist and utterly vintage to perfection.

“What are you doing?” Sofia asked over your own pending thoughts.

Yes, yes, yes. “I change my mind sister.” you could almost snicker evilly as your sister sneered at you from across the room, as you placed one of her own dresses against your waist, sizing it up.

“I wore that to a Halloween party, two years ago! - you can’t…”

 

Oh yes, you could.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Twenty minutes of cocky demeanor had now directed you down the path of destruction as a gathering of guests began to show up. Therefore you did what you thought would be a grand idea, hide in the empty kitchen with a bottle of champagne in hopes nobody would discover you.

And of course, even that was a disastrous idea.

Even worse something had occurred, one in which you presumed was long over.

After everything, and yet - it still drew you in like a moth to a flame, either that or it was solely the alcohol in your blood providing a tender misguidance.

 

[Private]  
Where are you?  
8: 21 PM

  
Like he cared, whoever he was. He stood you up without even a hint of an explanation!  
Typing away fast, you felt your wrath in every button you pressed.

 

  
[ - ]  
far away from you  
8: 21 PM

[Private]  
Ouch, someone has their pink panties in a twist.  
8: 22 PM

[ - ]  
how dare you still have that picture of me! AND FYI they are PURPLE WITH KITTIES ON THEM. YOU FCKING BYTCH FACED CUNT  
8: 22 PM

[Private]  
One of these days bunny, you’ll stop playing hard to get.  
8: 23 PM

[ - ]  
dont call me that! n delete that picture. if my daddy finds out he’ll beat your punk ass  
8: 24 PM

[Private]  
Are you sure? Daddy Falcone is getting pretty slow.  
8: 24 PM

 

What?

What?!

  
Your heart pounded harder than you ever assumed it could. Standing, you your knees felt weak, and the balls of your feet wobbling in your heels. You required something stronger than whatever the hell this champagne was.

How did he know?

 _BUT_ \- Of course, he knew. How dense could you be?

When did he find out? Did he see you with Victor earlier this week?

Did he actually come to your house? Was he in your apartment?

_Oh, shit._

Vodka! You located the bottle on a top shelf while trying to reach it, yet your mobile kept vibrating with every unread message on the kitchen counter.

Ugh, your fingers could barely grasp the bottle when upon stepping on the tips of your toes. Before you could realize a certain amount of warmness had wavered over you.

It was as if something was right behind you.

 _Someone,_ not something.

“I know what you did last summer.” Hot breath brushed the curve of your neck sending shock waves through your body. You could have almost screamed, and you would have if a hand didn’t cup your mouth muffling any sound that came from your lips.

A soft chuckle was the only thing you could hear as you struggled to break free.

“Victor!” You could almost slap him, but gosh he looked dashing. That black attire with swirled silver embroidery upon his black tailed suit and a matching silver skull clipped at the base of his tie.

  
You knew it was a formal party, but damn…

Then again, he was looking at you the same way.

The bald assassin breathed in as if he was relishing the moment, “Ms. Falcone,” he responded coolly.

That warm air was now turning cold and yet the tension grew thicker with unease, what were you supposed to say to him? After last time and his ‘attempt’ of an apology only got him so far. Everything just felt awkward now, “Mr. Zsasz.”

He inclined forward, making you almost forget his intention before he reached one hand up and grabbed the bottle you couldn’t reach yourself. “What do we say?” The assassin cooed voice low, essentially a whisper.

He unmistakably wanted you to beg, though you weren’t intending to play along with his many games. “Why are you here, Victor? I would have expected my father would have wanted you as far away as possible.”

  
“The boss wanted me here.” He hesitated, stepping back and opening the cap of the bottle. “He doesn’t like being in public alone, not after your sister forced him to eat humble pie.”

That was an entertaining way of putting it. “I see,” trying to move away, you found it hard not to look him in the eyes, those large onyx orbs that pierced through you as if you were paper thin.

“That dress,” much to your confusion you had never seen Victor look you up and down like that before, not for your clothes. “Is that for me?”

He thought that you were dressed up - for him? “I didn’t even know you were here.”

“Princess, you should have known I’d be coming.”

  
Maybe you should have. “Well, at least one of us is.”

His smirk sent a certain burning throughout your body. How dare he do this to you, with just one fucking smile of all things!

He eventually handed you the glass.

Taking a sip from the lip of the bottle, his grin didn’t shake an inch. “Don’t I remember telling you to watch that pretty mouth of yours, last time we were together?”

Oh dear, he didn't need to remind you.

“You sound like my sister, Victor.” Swallowing you wiped your lips, “She said a guy would never appreciate me if I didn’t learn to shut my mouth.” with the way you talked sometimes you didn’t genuinely blame her, it was most unquestionably a smart conclusion.

And yet Victor strode closer just enough to fill a gap separating your bodies, plucking the bottle back - his soundless way of saying ‘that’s enough.’ “I rather like your mouth open—”

What did he just say?

  
Did you understand that correctly?

You thought…

“—When you’re on your knees.” He finished, with his eyes now mentally undressing you right here before him.

_Ah._

“Oh, well… that’s…. Something - I guess.” Shit, you were bad at this... this whole - intimate thing… it was easy in theory, but in real life, It was scary as fuck!

And Victor being Victor made it so much worse - he had seemingly done this a thousand times before, with numerous girls or guys, whatever he was into - you weren’t fully sure. All you did know was that he had sent you a box of fucking Cheetos with a note saying he quote ‘liked’ you.

Liked?

What did he even mean by that?

You liked cake, but that didn’t mean you wanted to fuck it vigorously.

And now he was talking about you on your knees… _‘Oh yes, kneel before your rightful king - mortal female…’_

_Shut up, shut up, shut up. . . Think of anything else._

_Does he shave his legs?_

OH, fuck.

You looked up, he was still staring at you. “I have a secret to tell you, princess - you’re not going to like it.”

Your heart skipped, that sudden anxiety of yours was a bitch. “What? Oh my god - you’re _dying_ aren’t you?!”

“What?! No!” He snapped you back a pace.

Then what?! “Please don’t tell me it’s bulimia... I mean you eat so much - but you’re so…”

Victor grabbed each side of your cheeks, holding your face firmly in his hands. “I want you to listen to me very closely princess.”

He waited for you to nod your head. “I - don’t - have - a - _fucking_ \- eating - disorder -” pausing for a moment, he let everything sink in, still not moving a muscle. “I am also not dying, so I need you to calm the fuck down - _breathe_.”

Then what was this big secret? Why was he looking at you like that?

 

  
What was on his mind. . .

He opened his mouth as if he was about to speak, yet abruptly Victor turned his head, it was like he could hear something that you couldn’t. “Someone’s coming - shit,” He cursed under his breath.

Before you knew what was happening, one hand swung a kitchen pantry door open and shoved you back in against the wall.

It was all pitch black except for the grooved slots of light pouring in.

Victor was right behind you.

You could hear a voice, faint but not too far away.

It sounded like your father, he was looking for you - asking someone if they had seen you, yet the voice grew quieter as the assassin made a gentle ‘shhh’ sound, to remind you to keep silent.

Yet something wasn’t right.

You knew he was tense and probably didn’t want to get caught…

But…

“Victor,” you whispered. “Your gun is seriously pressed right into my ass right now, it’s uncomfortable as fuck - could you please -”

“That’s not my gun.”

 

_Oh._

 

 

 

 

 

 

`

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, the next chapter isn't going to have any time jump. . . *Evil snicker*
> 
> Oh and sorry about the last few chapters totally sucking. I've haven't been feeling... 'bright' of late, and well, writing a mostly humour based story - doesn't exactly go hand in hand XD  
> Just for calcification - or an excuse, whatever floats your goat.
> 
> Plus I essentially called my real life boyfriend Victor the other day... by accident. o_o' 
> 
> Anyways XD
> 
> The inspiration for the readers dress, if you're into that sort of thing.  
> https://image.rakuten.co.jp/diva-closet/cabinet/03498454/03502783/imgrc0064527977.jpg
> 
> And have a nice day. . . or night... mh


	30. Bang, bang, baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> And so... it happens.

 

 

 

 

 

**_… “That’s not my gun.”_ **

 

* * *

 

 

 

You wished he was lying. You wished maybe you hadn’t doubted his words. You wished you hadn’t actually reached around and ‘accidentally’ touched Victor Zsasz’s indomitable, semi automatic, weapon of mass destruction.

You touched it.

Well, more like grabbed it.

In fact, your hand was still there - why was it still there?!

Time felt like it had almost slowed down to a sudden stop, you needed to play this situation over in your head just a little more.

 

 

 

  
_‘What a large dick you have Mr. Zsasz.’_

_‘All the better to fuck you with my dear.’_

  
No, no, no, no…

yes?

No.

Definitely not.

“Princess.”

…”Princess.”

…….”You’re making it worse.”

But— maybe you wanted to make it worse - how worse could it get? _Oh my._

You swallowed, muttering under your breath, squeezing all the while. _“Engorgio.”_

Victor almost gasped, his voice slightly cracking to a thin at the end. “Wha - t?”

“It’s a spell, duh.” You sighed oblivious to his ignorance, “To eh… enlarge things.”

_And hello… it was working._

 

Zsasz ruined your fun, grabbing your wrist and pulling you closer - body on body.

He was breathing heavily. . .

Most likely because there was a lack of air.

But you liked to think it was because he was aroused, you were a cup half full kinda girl.

“Weren’t you going to tell me something before, Victor?” You couldn’t see his face, only feel his body heat, that and his… well… you get the point. You could only assume what he was going to say. Was he finally going to tell you he liked you in person? Maybe, even drop the ‘G’ word… You’d reasonably say yes, you imagined. After you make him watch several movies - plus the books for good measure.

For his lack of understanding was… disturbing.

“No.” His voice wavered, “I mean, yes - it’s hard to explain. I can’t —”

Was he nervous? Victor Zsasz was a lot of things, but never was he tongue tied. He was the kinda guy who loved hearing himself talk.

“— I didn’t expect it to be like this.”

“Victor, c’mon -” You urge him on, “We are standing here in my dad’s pantry, in the dark. Nobody is going to blame you for not foreseeing this.”

“Can you shut up for five fucking minutes, princess.”

Five minutes was asking a lot.

“Look, I don’t know what to say to you.” Victor was pulling away, but something in his voice sounded like he wanted the opposite. Was he questioning himself? “What we have, it’s wrong princess. And yet, I can’t get you out of my fucking head, I tried everything, only to came up with one conclusion, and that is - well, I don’t want you out of my head.”

You really got that he was trying to be romantic or something, although. . . “Victor, I get what you’re trying to say - but your boner in my stomach is legit poking a hole in the romance.” It was actually quite uncomfortable now, with the reduction of space and all.

“I am not apologizing - it’s your fault!”

“My fault?! You need to learn how to control your own dick.”

He tried to argue. “It’s natural.”

Again, Zsasz was a lot of things, natural was the least of them.

You groaned, now frustrated. “I can’t believe your being cockblocked by your own cock now.” This sort of thing could only happen to Zsasz and you.

“And who’s fucking fault is that?!” he added on, “Grabbing me in places and wearing that dress that smells like freaking cinnamon.”

Victor likes cinnamon, that was duly noted.

“If you want, I could toot your horn.”

“What?!” you could have sworn it took it him a solid thirty seconds to catch on.

“No, I don’t want a hand job in a fucking cupboard with my boss and your father - lurking around corners.”

“We could be stealth.”

For a moment, there’s complete silence, enough for you to wonder if he’s considering it.

“ Ye - N- no!” He blurts out, moving his hands around, “I was trying to tell you something important.”

Yeah, and you get it. “Yes, you like me - and, I like you, Victor - obviously. But what is all this ‘like’ nonsense if you keep pushing me away every time I try to get past those guarded walls of yours. You say you ‘like’ me, but it means shit if you’re just gonna leave every time something real happens between us.”

The use of the word ‘us’ between Victor and you was strange at the end of your tongue.  
  
Especially considering there was no ‘us’ to begin with, or at least you presumed so with the way he kept acting.

“Well, that’s the problem innit princess. There’s always something in between us!”

He was going around in circles again, you could have sworn the only problem was him. He couldn’t decide what he wanted, from day one he was pulling you around, or pulling you away. His only problem was himself and not knowing what he wanted.

Did he even know?

You made a high pitch “Ha,” before tossing your head to the side. “The only thing between us Victor, is your overinflated ego and your equally large dick!”

“Large.. huh?” You could sense that cheeky smile of his even in the dark.

“Don’t get cocky. It’s only a compliment when its a benefit - which it isn’t, considering every time we have an intimate moment, you start acting like I have the fucking bubonic plague! So what’s the deal? Is it just my father, or is it something else now?!”

You could understand if it was about your father, maybe even you, but it didn’t feel that way.

If it was about him, you doubted he would be here at all. So whatever it was, it had to be something out of the ordinary.

You heard a breathy groan. “It’s definitely in the ‘something else’ category I can tell you that much.”

“Then get on with it Victor - stop dancing around and tell me.”

“I am trying too - It’s hard to explain, plus you won’t shut up and give me five fucking minutes!”

Then fine, you’d shut your mouth and let him speak.

Whatever it happened to be, it must have been causing Zsasz some dismay the way he was shuffling around, breathing heavy, it was like there was some huge weight upon his shoulders - yet, he didn’t utter a word. Was it that hard to tell you, whatever it was? You assumed by now he could tell you anything and it wouldn’t change the way you felt.

Anyways, how bad could it be - he already killed people and look where you where you are right now, in front of him, waiting for him to make a move. It was the same place you had been for the last month, standing here - waiting - with what to show for it?

Nothing.

For once all Victor needed was to communicate with you. You never expected him to sweep you off your feet and shower you in love and kisses, but what was this - if he couldn’t even talk to you?

Little alone tell you something that was digging away at his mind.

Maybe all he needed was a little push.

“You know what Victor, screw you - I gave you time, I gave you everything. So unless you have something worth my time, don’t pull me into it!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

The cupboard door slammed in his face. One moment she was there before him talking her head off, only for him to wish for silence. But now? Now, he’d give anything to have it back, standing here alone overwhelmed with a sensation he couldn’t quite place, except for the fact he would rather anything else.

He needed her.

The little delicate thing he had come to adore, with a mouth of a vixen of all things.

Which in its own manner made her perfect in every single way, as frustrating as it was.

She wasn’t just some random girl.

Neither she just a Falcone, nor name, face or number.

She was something he couldn’t quite place. A girl that got under his skin and torn away what he thought reality was, that only in the end made Victor question new ideas that never needed answers for.

Perhaps there were more shades than black and white.

Maybe it wasn’t always raining in Gotham.

And most definitely, a bit of sunshine wouldn’t be so bad if he got to hold it in his arms.

Victor wasn’t going to let his little minx get away again.

He started this, and he was sure as hell going to finish it.

But first.

First, he had to tell her.

 

 

 

 

  
Victor’s polished shoes skidded along the polished wooden floors, doors slammed, crowds blocked paths to his line of site. She was doing this on purpose, he just knew it. Her little game of cat and mouse would only get her so far, however, in the meantime, he pushed his way through Falcone’s gathering amount of incoming guests.

The only thing on his mind was where all the little choices that got him here.

Bang, straight into a fucking mess a younger version of himself swore he’d never get into.

And here he was in the present breaking the first rule in the book.

Always put yourself first.

Before now it was an easy rule to follow, with an equally basic understanding.

Above all else: keep yourself alive. Don’t have things in your life you’re willing to die for. Don’t be a hero. Don’t have distractions. Cut people out. Don’t get close. Stay in the background.

He knew what happened to people who broke the guidelines. He had seen it a thousand times, and a thousand times he had wondered how people can be so fucking stupid.

But how did he get here? Right here.

It would have to easy to blame the kid that despised his parents. A drunken whore of a mother who blamed her own self inflicted misery on her son’s existence or a father who was more interested in work than anything else. He still remembered the way his Italian leather loafers echoed when he paced in his office. He’d stand there at the door waiting, watching, his eyes following every movement.

Forever waiting.

_“Dad.”_

His only call to be greeted with a door slammed in his face.

Shut, closed, locked, silent.

A shot glass slammed down, wiping his lips with the back of his sleeve. It was all blur now. The cards didn’t resemble numbers nor shades or even the sparsest of meanings. There was no tactic, not even a tidiest scarce of a calculated strategy, just one objective - get rid of it all.

_“All in.”_

His parent’s demise was all it took for his father’s empire to come crashing down around him. He sat down as a multi-millionaire and the head of his father's international company, now? Everything had been burnt to the ground. There would be nothing left, nothing but a memory that died with along with ideals of better men.

When the sun rises and the moon falls, no shadows would cease to linger.

So he stood overlooking the Gotham harbor, a reminder where his parents took their last breath with nothing but the suit he swore and a bottle of red wine, raising it high above his head before it dropped plunging to the deep depths of water below. It was his final desire to part with the memory of his mother on equal terms.

For the hatred he felt in himself was unparalleled to anything she could have ever grasped.

Nobody could hate him, more than he hated himself.

And half the reason why was because he agreed with them. He fucking agreed with them.

_He was a fucking disappointment._

_He always had been._

_He hated the life._

_His life._

_Because it didn’t feel like his._

_Everything he did felt as if it was to please someone else._

_Someone he fucking despised._

It seemed like the only thing he was ever good at was taking orders and destroying other people's lives.

It was only now present in time that everything seemed it had fallen so well in place, only back then the world felt like never ending abyss of despair, depression, a dark ocean ready to swallow you up whole.

The darkness wasn’t forgiving, it had no remorse, it took everything you had and all that you were.

So what did you have to lose if you had already lost everything? When you look into the mirror and not even recognize yourself, it’s like strands of hair falling through your fingers and suddenly your whole perception of reality shifts. You don’t see yourself because you think the darkness has consumed you, only for you to realize all this time it wasn’t apart of you.

**It is you.**

And everything that’s ever been said, done, or happened has its own cause and effect. Even for a man to squeeze his the arch of his shoulder and simply state, “You did a job, Victor.” Don Falcone, wrong intentions or not, was the first person to utter those words. ‘Keep aiming like that son, and your debts will be repaid in no time.’  
  
But he didn’t do for the money.

He never did.

_‘What are you going to do now that you have your freedom, Victor?’_

_‘I dunno, I thought I’d stick around - you know what people say, do something you love. If you’ll keep me on of course.’_

_‘Of course Victor, you’re apart of this family. You always will be.’_

Family.

Not by blood, but by loyalty and choice.

So the seed of darkness grew, watered down by blood, sweat, and tears, it grew and grew with thorns sharp like razors, leaving one scar after another.

And yet, as life would have it, even the toughest weeds to kill can bloom the most beautiful of flowers.

And sometimes.

Just sometimes, they will be a girl, a special girl. That sees past all of that with a hand outstretched, she reaches through without thought, without worry, she’s not scared of a little darkness, for she is the light, and the bloom at the end is hers.

He sees her now outside amongst the stars, only one shoe, one heel had gotten lodged and stuck in the soft damp grass. Victor reached for his phone, taking a breath, watching her in the corner of his eyes as she looked up at the moon, arms crossed like the stubborn little woman she was.

He dialed a number and waited…

She reacted slowly, her fingers trembled. “Hell-o?”

“Hey muffin, remember when I called you slow - well…”

Her jaw dropped, phone slammed shut with a loud slap. “You?!” She turned kicking off her remaining shoe, throwing it at him, missing by a mile, only making her more cranky. “Was this a game to you?! Did you know?!”

“No, I fucking didn’t! It’s only when you mentioned -” Interrupted she almost lunged at him with her inferior frame and strength, “Fuck you!” She yelled, Victor catching both her fists in his hands. He knew she wasn’t going to take it well, he just knew.

“What are you going to do princess? Are you going to hit me, strike me? Go ahead, I dare you.” He taunted her, knowing he deserved it. He should have known better. If it wasn’t for his stupid ego maybe he would have known, it was obvious and yet he refused to see it.

She was always right there, inches away. So close and yet so far away.

“Oh, I am going to hit you alright.” She hissed in her snappy tone. His hands let go, closing his eyes, wanting it, desiring it, just hit me. Two hands pulled at him, fierce and stronger than he anticipated, that’s his girl.

_Do it._

_Just do it._

Then it hit him, like a fucking double decker bus. It wasn’t hard, sharp or painful. It was soft, delicate and fucking confusing. This little thing had gripped him tightly, hands on the back of his neck and planted the sweetest of touches upon his lips. Victor had been kissed before, but never ever like this, not this soft, passionate nor gentle.

His hands ran down her back, plucking her feet from the ground. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he swung her around and kissed her back. Fuck, she gasped a little breath of air, her legs grasping his waist, never wanting to let go.

She was going to be the death of him.

But fuck it, fuck everything.

His fingers combed through her hair, lips entwined, why did this take so long?

“Victor.” The soft sound pulled him back, she was smiling as their lips parted, eyes wide, fuck, was there anything more beautiful? He let her bare feet drop slowly to the grass, her hands fixing her black dress. “I am just surprised,” She bit her lip, that sassy smile of hers was going to be his undoing. “You’re a better kisser than I expected.” the girl giggled.

“Expected?” Victor leaned in and wiped at her bottom lip with his thumb gently, “Do you have such little faith in me, princess?!”

She shied away from his hand, for a moment she almost looked innocent with a gentle sparkle in her eyes he’d never fully seen.

“Nope, I just think you could use a little more practice, you know.”

He rolled his eyes, smiling like an idiot. In the back of his mind he had forgotten the real reason he was here; work. Crap… for a second he peeled back his sleeve to look at his watch. “Fuck,” Penguin.

“Princess.” Victor stepped back but she grabbed his hand, squeezing it tight, she could see right through him. “Don’t go, please.”

“Work.” He said softly, “I have too.”

“Will you come back?” She blinked her eyes, looking down. He didn’t want to go… “Promise me you’ll come back, promise.”

Victor sighed promises, promises. He rolled back his sleeve, pulling his watch from his wrist to place around hers. It seemed like the best way to convey the message. “I promise. I’ll find you in a few hours, okay? Stay bad gorgeous. Oh, and don’t tell your father…” He tried to smile past his well hidden nerves, scratching the back of his neck.

She nodded, and for a moment he walked away it felt like his world had come to a sudden halt.

 

 

 

 

  
Did all of that just happen?

You were a fucking mess, absolutely obliterated. After an hour and a bit you headed up to your room, people were only looking at you with concern considering you had spent the whole last hour with your lips completely sealed. If only they knew you were just off with the fairies, thinking about dashing assassins that sweep you off your feet.

Maybe it was a good thing they didn’t know.

This whole time. This whole fucking time. It was him? You landed on your bed, scooping your pillow around your face, wanting nothing more than to muffle the scream brewing in your stomach, but even that seemed to fade into nothing as you stared up at the ceiling into the night.

At least he was going to come back.

He promised. He tied his watch around your wrist that hung like an ill-fitting bracelet. You found your wandering fingers brushing over the black leather and silver, the hands ticking became locked in your mind unable to silence the sound. Turning your wrist over you took it off, slowly, carefully, something caught your eye, on the back engraved cursive font;

_with much appreciation - Victor Palindrome._

You sighed, how very touché. It seemed like you were both hiding family history, not that you could blame him in the slightest. You weren’t exactly thrilled with being a Falcone either, it seemed as if this world just wasn’t made for you, but the more you stayed with these people the more frightening it became, perhaps even among these people you had the capability to fit in. Victor was just the tip of the iceberg.

And you kissed him.

He kissed back.

Now what? Where do you go from here? You never expected to get this far, not with your anonymous friend, and especially not Victor fucking Zsasz, or whomever he was! God, your life was a total mess, he’s probably thinking the same thing. Imagine what your father will say or your sister! Shit, and you thought you left your rebellious stage behind.

Apparently, fate had other plans.

Plans… plans… did you even have one? The short answer was ‘no.’ You had no idea what to do or expect. Victor had promised in a way that seemed earnest, though it wasn’t hard to foresee every way they could end up empty-handed, just the same way Zsasz would end up being if… if? Shit.

Shit, you were expecting him weren’t you? You palmed your face. You probably looked like a walking, living, breathing disaster. And here Victor was most likely assuming he’d come into your room and you would be laying in bed awaiting him, probably wearing a sexy cliche black negligee and all you could think about was waiting for him in the dark, wearing a Frank bunny mask; “You’re about to ejaculate in zero days, one hour...three minutes...and twelve seconds…” But Victor would be totally into that, right?

Right?

Oh dear, you were in some serious shit.

 

 

 

 

 

Another one hour and thirty minutes had passed. It was now well and truly past midnight, Victor still hadn’t come… on multiple different levels.

it was scarcely past three until you had noticed a bald man dressed in black and silver sitting casually on your windowsill. You hadn't even heard him enter, causing you to almost jump out of your skin if you didn’t have the strength to hold it in, plus you weren’t going to give him another reason for his Cheshire smirk to grow any broader.

Did he seriously come in through the window?

“Boo.” He teased you, closing the window behind him.

Victor thought he was so clever and cunning, thinking he could creep up on you and do the little spooky boy thing he does, if only he knew he was the angst-ist thing since emo spiderman. Well, except the bangs, those belonged to your boss - which you both shared… everything always had to be complicated between Victor and you.

“You’re staring princess.” Zsasz snapped you from your weird inner thoughts. “Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts, or am I just not what you expected?”

Not what you expected? You scoffed, that was saying it lightly, but humoring him a little would suffice for now. “I guess you could say that.” you moved closer, teasing him with your purred words. “Is it such a bad thing for a girl to wish for a tall, chiseled blonde, blue eyed man?”

Victor shifted his head to the side, he was indulging in your monologue for the moment. “No offense bunny, but you don’t have the personality to start getting picky.”

You grappled against him as pulled you close, locking you tightly into his clutch, his fiery breath smoothing the nape of your neck sending shivers and heat throughout your body. Fuck, you could almost resent how he made your legs tremble and shake. “But, I presume we both know what you want,” Victor whispered into your lobe.

A single hand was traveling up your waist, inching closer to what he desired, at least he knew now what he wanted - yourself.

You had waited so long for this, but now that you had it, it was almost terrifying. This man was gorgeous, no matter how much you teased him it would never change that fact that Victor Zsasz didn’t even need eyebrows to be sexy as fuck; how could you compete with that?!

“I want you, Victor,” you hushed back in a small voice. “All of you.”

The bald man chuckled against your skin, most likely taking pleasure in yourself breaking from his warm embrace alone. “Someone is getting greedy. It would be a shame to spoil you princess.”

“It would also be a shame if you missed out on what I have to offer.” You rebutted without much thought, sass ringing high in your voice.

“Like a migraine?” He cupped your breast at the same time making you gasp embarrassingly.

He was going to pay for that.

“Probably, though I doubt you’d be able to get past foreplay, considering the chances of you getting it up twice in one night are...slim, old man.” You tormented the assassin, resulting in what almost sounds like his teeth grinding together.

Before you knew it you were being pinned against the wall, his larger frame lurking over you. Victor had pinched your chin, urging you to glance up into his large dark eyes. He was reminiscing about something lewd you could almost tell, despite the evidence you had no idea what tickled his fancy other than pure hostility.

But hey, if taunting him into bed worked, who was to say it was such a bad thing.

His hands were still on your waist, body pressing harder into you by the passing moment. Oh god, his breath breathed heavenly like freshly picked mint and tequila. “I think you should apologize, little girl,” Victor suggested, his lips almost touching yours.

Your own breath came out unhinged like a shiver, “forgive me, my dark lord.”

As always, Victor acted if he had no idea what you were talking about, instead his free hand moved up your thigh softly to cup the curve of your ass. His smile now pressed against your lips in a snarly chaste kiss. “Wrong ‘F’ word, bunny. Try again.”

Victor and his freaking never ending pet names. Yet, anything could be less patronizing than his ‘princess.’

“Fuck me, my dark lord.” you took in what pleasure you could from how well that sounded rolling off your tongue.

Imagine what else would feel great rolling off the end of your tongue, oh dear.

“Where?” He asked. Victor grabbed your thighs, lifting you in limbo to his body.

Fuck, who cares! “Depends, how much time do you have before General Hux calls you back to The Black Parade?”

The way Victor lifted one brow, you knew he at least understood some part of your jest… some part…

“I don’t know -”

Well then without delay… _“Hi ho, to the bed, Silver!”_

 

 

 

 

Great, this was your favorite part about intimate endeavors. You know the part where you have to get butt naked. Sure it wasn’t a big deal, you had never felt apprehensive about it before but just look at Victor, under all those layers of black and emotional turmoil he was prime fucking beef. Yes, he was probably as pale as Sweet Sue’s chicken in a can, but the guy looked like he could run a marathon. Which is saying something, counting the only marathon you could run was on a television screen and you felt as physically attractive as _untossed_ potato salad.

_Anyways._

Victor wasn’t considering any second decisions when it came to getting you out of that cinnamon scented dress he relished. With a single tug of a zip, it pooled down around your ankles and at the same liberating you from your restrictive bonds.

You froze for a single moment, unsure what to do, his eyes were drinking you in. Either that or he’s silently asking himself, ‘why the fuck am I about to bang a girl who has funky kitten faces on her knickers.’

He tilted his head in thought, narrowing his eyes, the proof was in the pudding. “You weren’t kidding.”

“I would never joke about something like this.”

Victor seemed slightly amused with himself. “Give me a twirl?” He chuckled under his breath, following after you.

“Fuck off.”

“Get on the bed.”

You looked up at the man in black. “Is that an order?”

“Yes.” Fine. Obliging you followed orders, watching him, as he watched you, his index finger hooking into the collar of his tie. You wanted it off, to feel his warmth and clashing of skin on skin… and yet.

_And yet._

“Leave the suit on, Mr. Bond.”

His hand dropped with a coy smirk, his upper lip pulled into the devilish smile you come to love to hate, reaching for his belt instead, undoing it slowly while he his eyes didn’t part from your own…

“Is that a kink I should know about?”

You kidded back, all too well knowing somewhere deep down that perhaps it was a better idea to keep your trap shut. Only, it was too late now - there was no ending it.

“Nope. I am just kinda scared you look like one of those hairless cats under all those layers. It wouldn’t be much of shocker, you are a giant cunt after all.”

If you had a sixth sense, you could have affirmed it was the ability to hear Victor’s blood boil. However, thankfully just to your broadest of chances, it just so occurs to let his blood flow with a bountiful side effect.

_Very bountiful._

His line of site traveled down to your own. Your master evil plan was foiled, he was onto you.

“Is this some kind of game to you?”

“No.” maybe. “I just... noticed you get turned on when you have violent thoughts… that’s all, Daddy’o”

There was no argument about it now, it was all there, breaching to the surface like fucking Jaws…

_Da-Dum...Da-Dum...Da-Dum-Da-Dum-Da-Dum… attack me… ravish me… feast on my flesh…_ okay, maybe not that far.

“Perhaps you’re right kitty-cat.” He humored you back, slinking closer, appearing sly and menacing as always. “But maybe we could just watch Saw next time, it has the same effect.”

He rolls next to you onto the bed with a firm playful thump, causing you to bounce and move into his side with a cheeky snicker. Next time? Was Victor already plotting ahead?

“I didn’t know you were already clearing your calendar out for me.”

By the time you had finished your sentence his hand had already fastened your thigh over his pelvis, his hand resting on your ass. Believably there to remind you; ‘be a cheeky little shit one more time and I’ll spank that ass red raw.’

“Well, just between you and me princess, I know Falcone ordinarily goes outta town on Fridays. I won’t tell if you do.”

“And what If I do?” You inched in closer, saying it almost to a whisper upon his lips.

“I guess -” Victor mumbles a wicked chuckle against your skin, fingers touching the pillows of your lips, pulling them apart to show your teeth in a shameless manner, “I’ll have to get out my reverse bear trap.”

That tangled gag at the back of your throat was loitered by forcefully stolen kiss settled upon you. It was even better than the last. His spare hand rested adjacent your head, slowly he inched over you, his size easily overshadowing you, and your leg still remained curved around his lower back.

_“Okay, okay, I promise - I won’t tell.”_

It was at this instant you realized you would never have a standard relationship with Victor. You doubted if there’d ever be love heart shaped boxes of sweets and candle lit date nights. But what you did have, was something special, something that made you feel things you never imagined possible, and you’d be deceiving yourself if you said you didn’t ache for more.

It was scary but all too thrilling of a thought.

Your attention quickly shattered in between kisses that left you breathless, feeling something notably hard grinding against the inner part of your thigh, that was unmistakably not a gun. . .

But it was locked and loaded.

_Seven and a half inches. Unyielding._

You don't choose the wand, the wand chooses you.

And oh boy did it choose you.

You gulped down, swallowing down all those soft scarce sobs that all merely aspired to spill out, shuddering from your lips. His fingers and eyes were maintained absent, at least you could hide that embarrassing crimson shade upon your cheeks even if it was for a moment.

Too late, his sites had just returned. “Are you okay?” He asked, wide eyed but neither pausing.

You nodded trying to remain poised and posed without a word, brace for impact, Houston we have contact.

_Oh god._

_Oh dear._

_Oh lord._

Shit, fuck, fuck, fuck. _“Ohhhh.”_

Did you just...

“Did you just moan, already?”

“No! And I didn’t say stop either.”

Victor winked, “Sorry, boss.”

Yeah, put your back into it.

You could get used to this. The fucking and the respect.

But mostly the _fucking._

Your hands drifted up his back, his suit, to the nape of his neck, gosh his skin was so ridiculously soft. Why did everything about him have to be so damn perfect? Except maybe his shitty timing and overwhelming taste for black velour.

In time you could learn to forgive those if he kept this up.

It may be his only redeeming quality at this point, that and his horrendously charming smile that endlessly came out of nowhere and at inappropriate times.

At this point, you could feel your heart rate almost pounding through the cavity of your chest. Victor placing strategic kisses and marks where your father's eyes would never catch a glimpse. He softly reminds you to ‘breathe’ but it came to no use.

“I am going to enjoy watching you come undone, princess.” Victor tunes in the background, though you don’t bother to look at him, you agree with him. You want to see it, feel it, you welcome it and everything that Victor Zsasz to offer.

“What if my father finds out about us?” His face still lingered in the back of your mind, the way shot through you like glass when you tried to tell your father of your feelings about your bald assassin.

He wasn’t even slightly enjoyed by a newfound interest in the man that was supposed to babysit and keep you safe all those weeks ago.

“He won’t find out if we be careful. It was my fault for hauling your ass out of that cafe and making a scene, I won’t do it again. Regardless, it might help if you tell Carmine that you hate me from time to time.”  
  
Like he makes it so hard. “But what if - you don’t think he would murder you or something - surely…”

You had to stop yourself, it felt crazy saying it, Daddy Falcone just seemed like a nice old man, intense at times, but warm - towards you, which often made you forget his violent, bloody past.

“Well let's put it this way you’ll understand.”

A small delicious gasp parted your lips, shifting his weight and ultimately filling you and at the same point curling your toes to a glorifying stretch, only then did he continue on.

“Godfather part one, Sonny’s death scene. It would be a lot like that I imagine.” Victor hesitated, running his fingers down every groove and valley of your spine, soaking in all of your shivers to his own unrelenting touch.

“What can I say, this life takes a fucking toll on you princess. But he can’t murder me if I am already dead on the inside.”

“You are so fucking emo.”

“ _Am_ not.”

“Are _too_.”

Victor stops and narrows his eyes, “Lucky you’re cute.”

Very lucky.

 

Flashes, minutes, seconds, appeared to all turn into tepid shades of grey. A coat was flung off the side of the bed. Somehow Zsasz’s black tie found itself fastened around your head and in between your teeth, a substitute gag of sorts.

It ended how it started hot and heated, more pleasure, less him being a pain in the ass. Could Victor actually be somewhat delightful? Alas, he was probably thinking the same thing about you, rolling you over on top, a single sheet clinging to your back, wrapped up in one hand, as the other lingers for the touch of his skin where it may be under that once pristine suit, now a total mess made in heaven.

You feel warm.

Complete.

Happy, even.

The way, his fingers comb through your hair, picking loose strands off your face and brushing your cheeks with his thumb, you could swear that maybe this broody, spooky, baldy assassin felt at least an inkling of contentment.

As long as he knew it, that was good enough for you.

 

 

 

 

“Victor -” You just realized something, heart dropping in beat.

“What?”

“Did you wear a… eh…”

“Condom? No.” He lifted a brow. “You’re not…”

“On any pills? Nope.”

Nope.

  
…

  
_Definitely not._

…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Oh my LORD Taylor."
> 
> Thank f*ck that's over.
> 
> EPILOGUE?! EPILOGUE! Yes, there will be one. 
> 
> [[ Q & A ]]
> 
> Question: WHY ISN'T THIS GOOD SMUT, WHYDIDN'TYOUPOETICALLYDESCRIBETHEENDOFVICTORSDICKWHILEHEFUCKSUSVIGOROUSLYWITHHISSILENCER.
> 
> Answer: Cause baby, I am as broken as a fucking fibre optic Christmas tree. no matter how much you flip that switch, I ain't ever going to turn on.
> 
>  
> 
>  


	31. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short ending conclusion

 

 

 

It was just precautionary.

You must know for sure, this additional stress you had bottled up was a killer and keeping you up at night. It had only been shy of three weeks, yet as you found yourself drifting away to sleep something would pull back at your mind, reminding you of all the ways you’ve fucked up tremendously.

Still, all in all, you sat on your bathroom tiles alone, door locked, fingers trembling, trying to open up some stupid box with baby smirking at you, eyes heavy with judgment.

Fucking hell, how do you even use one of these?

Where are the instructions? You rattled the box, and a piece of paper slipped out. The thing rolled out like a map of New Zealand but you weren’t going _There and Back Again,_ for the love of Mordor… is that written in Chinese or Elvish? Oh, god. No wonder the infant human was judging you.  
  
You just need to breathe and remain calm.

Your thoughts lingered back to your bedroom that poster of Loki. You used to think it was a way of saying you’d only ever kneel to one man, but hell, if you had just bent the knee you wouldn’t have been in this situation.

So here’s to thinking you could have spent your whole thinking your face was the only birth control you required, too bad you had gone out and met a guy who had low enough standards to go poking around downstairs.

You breathed in, literally holding your future in your hands.

Well, it’s now or never.

**~**

C’mon, C’mon… how long did you have to wait? You could feel your heart racing through your chest, this was torture alone.

Was it changing color or was that your eyes?

Oh dear.

Oh shit.

You’re so screwed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

`

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the last seven months this story was so fun to write. I set out to create something a little crazy, quirky and just something you enjoy without taking too seriously. I know I took it overboard sometimes, overly exaggerated, joked about things I shouldn't have, but it was all for good intentions ~ most of the time it's just me making an inside joke, poking fun at myself XD But alas, this story gave me life for the months it last.
> 
> Anyways, I'd like to thank everyone that stuck by and read, commented and gave kudos - because lets be frank this story doesn't deserve this much love.  
> And yet the people who always commented and came back, always made it worth sitting down and writing the next chapter <3 
> 
> There is going to be a sequel, to fill in the plot holes I left open on purpose. . . It's called 'Renegade,' like the same 'ade' in Facade. I am such a dork. The first chapter is already written and It will be uploaded after I finish this.


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